


The Satinalia Ball

by Gardngoyle



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Satinalia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-06 17:27:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16837138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gardngoyle/pseuds/Gardngoyle
Summary: It's Satinalia and the Inquisition is hosting a Feast and a ball to impress the Orlesian Ambassador.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This happens after the Revelations quest.

Blackwall crossed the lower courtyard at a brisk pace. It was gently snowing, and he wasn’t wearing a cloak over his party clothes. Black. On Satinalia. Not the blue and white of the season or the green and white of the Inquisition. No. Black. From the too tight collar to the soles of his shiny new boots. Coal Black. Like the villain in some child’s tale. Like the villain of the Inquisition. Dorian had been in charge of the formal wear, and surely this was one of his little jokes. It was customary for couples to color coordinate their outfits at a Satinalia Feast, and Lady Lavellan would certainly not be wearing black.

Blackwall stomped up the stairs and into the Great Hall. The great unbroken space hung with garlands of evergreen decorated with baubles of silver and blue and lit with mage lights. The tables were set with long rows of blue and white candles and the places were set with plates instead of trenchers. Many of the guests had arrived before him and were finding their seats and exchanging the tidings of the season. It was only mid-afternoon and the gray light from outside was made cheery through the stained glass in the windows. Vhenaria had insisted that the feast be held well before sundown, so the servants could still enjoy their holiday when the ball was over. 

Josephine glided among the guests in a gown of deep purple, her hair piled elegantly upon her head. She chatted gaily, making sure everyone was comfortable and had found their assigned seats. Josie simply glowed, truly enjoying all the fuss and bother. 

Blackwall’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of laughter. It was Varric, beside himself with glee. ‘Who dressed you, Hero?’ he gasped between chuckles, ‘If you were any shorter you be the spitting image of the Dark Dwarf.’

Blackwall self-consciously smoothed the front of his tunic, ‘This was Dorian’s doing,’ he said gruffly.

‘After the party, are you planning on carrying naughty dwarven children off to the Deep Roads?’

‘I’m going to ignore you now,’ Blackwall said pointedly.

‘Fair enough, Hero, we’ll talk later,’ Varric chuckled again, ‘We’re meeting in Songbird’s room after the ball, right?’

‘Right. I’ll try not to let any darkspawn follow me up,’ Blackwall replied and turned his attention to Josie, who had appeared at his elbow. Blackwall bowed, ‘Lady Montilyet, you are a wonder. The Hall has never looked so grand. All your planning and hard work has certainly paid off.’

‘Thank you, Blackwall,’ Josie returned graciously, ‘I hope you take that into consideration when I explain the seating arrangements.’

As she spoke, Blackwall couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Why had Josie waited until now to tell him that he was banned from the head table completely? He knew this wasn’t Vhenaria’s celebration. It was a political move. A show of strength and confidence for the Inquisition, and an attempt to repair the damage he personally had done to the Inquisition’s relations with Orlais. But he had thought that he would at least be recognized as a member of the Inquisitor’s Inner Circle.

Truth was, he knew why Josie hadn’t told him. She was a wise and generous woman, but she was a diplomat first. She had purposely waited to explain his role, or lack thereof, because she knew there would be no point in him arguing his case now. Not that he had a case to argue. ‘Please, Blackwall,’ Josie was saying, ‘you are not the only one excluded from the head table. You must understand, your relationship with Inquisition is complicated enough. The visitors from Orlais will be hard-pressed to have you in the room at all.’ Blackwall could tell she was truly sympathetic.

Josie brushed lint from the shoulder of his tunic, ‘You look better in this than I supposed,’ trying to change the subject, ‘I argued with Dorian over it.’

‘At least it is better than the toy soldier costumes we wore to the ball in Halamshiral. And I have been remiss, Dear Lady, in failing to compliment you on your dress this evening. Royal Purple suits you.’

‘Thank you, Blackwall,’ Josie was delighted with the compliment.

Looking up at the dais, Blackwall’s thoughts returned to the earlier topic. ‘Who,’ he asked, ‘is My Lady’s escort this evening?’

‘Commander Rutherford will walk her to the dais and sit at her right hand,’ Josie answered and Blackwall’s expression darkened, ‘The Orlesian ambassador will sit at her left. Blackwall-’

‘It’s all right, Josie,’ Blackwall said, ‘I would have realized if I had thought about it.’ He paused for a moment, considering. ‘What if she walked in by herself? Why does she need an escort for the twenty feet from the door to the throne? She is the Inquisitor. And a capable woman.’

‘I asked her that, not an hour ago.’ Josie replied, ‘She’s afraid she’ll trip or faint or manage to embarrass herself. You know how much she hates public displays of her authority. She fought me on this, Blackwall. She insisted that you walk her to the dais. She threatened to stay in her room.’

‘No, she didn’t,’ Blackwall mused.

‘No,’ Josie sighed, ‘she didn’t. She threatened to burn down the Tower.’

‘That sounds more like it,’ Blackwall said with a grin.

‘Furious, does not describe it. And Dorian was beside himself - he was afraid she’d muss her hair - or his.’ Josie smiled at Blackwall’s chuckle and put her hand on his arm, ‘You know what this is really about.’

Blackwall covered her hand with his, ‘I know how the Game is played. Orlais will accept my position in the Inquisition, but only if I am utterly humiliated in public in the process.’

‘Just this once,’ Josie smiled at him, ‘Lady Lavellan won’t allow it a second time.’

‘Who am I seated with?’ he asked, accepting his fate.

Josie’s eyes danced with delight, ‘Bull, Sera and Cole.’

‘You put me at the children’s table,’ he laughed.

‘I put you with people you enjoy, over here, where you can see her, and she can see you. And I put Solas over there,’ Josie gestured to the opposite side of the room, ‘with some other mages.’

‘I’m glad you are on our side, Josie.’

‘Have a good time and don’t drink too much,’ Josie laughed, ‘After she dances with Cullen and the Orlesian ambassador, Vhenaria will be free to turn her attentions elsewhere.’

‘Lady Montilyet,’ Blackwall executed a perfect bow and kissed Josie’s hand, ‘thank you for your friendship. Would it be inappropriate for me to ask that you save a dance for me?’

‘Not at all,’ Josie felt the blood rush to her cheeks and wondered if Blackwall could tell, ‘I would be more than honored to dance with you.’

‘I am at your service,’ Blackwall winked and started to walk away when Josie stopped him with a hand on his arm. ‘We are all still exchanging gifts in the Inquisitor's quarters after the ball, are we not?’

‘We are. You’ll be there?’

‘You could not keep me away,’ Josie smiled.

***

Blackwall walked over to his seat. Bull was already there. He was wearing midnight blue trousers and a gleaming white tunic - without sleeves. On the bench next to him was what at first appeared to be an animal of some sort. Bull saw Blackwall’s gaze and held up the mass of fur. ‘It’s a cape,’ Bull said with practiced patience, ‘a white fur cape. You know how much I love Dorian,’ Bull continued, ‘but sometimes...’

‘He’s a little hard to take,’ Blackwall patted his chest, ‘apparently I am dressed as some sort of dwarven bogeyman.’

‘Dorian’s room has been covered with bolts of cloth for weeks now, and this is the best he could do for us. Can’t wait to see how the Boss is dressed.’

‘I’m heading that way now,’ Blackwall said, glancing at the door to the Tower. The door guards stood straight, eyes front. One of them was a young man with oak brown skin who had survived the attack on Haven. Brandon something. He and Vhenaria made it a point to learn the names of as many of the guards and servants as they could. It was a good habit to have. Especially when you ran across someone new. And Blackwall was sure the other guard was new. He turned to Bull, ‘Do the door guards look familiar to you?’ Blackwall asked.

Bull surveyed the room over Blackwall’s head, ‘That’s Weever on the left. Can’t remember his first name.’

‘Weever, right. Brandon Weever.’

‘Yes, Brandon. One of the Bosses favorites. He’s completely devoted to her and the Inquisition. I don’t know the other one.’

‘Neither do I,’ Blackwall said, and got up to investigate. Bull followed, still scanning the room for anything else out of place.

‘Brandon Weever,’ Blackwall addressed the guard, ‘Good Satinalia, everything running smoothly here?’

‘Yes, Ward- I mean, yes, Blackwall.’ Brandon was flustered.

Blackwall was used to it. Since his judgement before the Inquisitor, weeks ago now, he had no title. He was just ‘Blackwall’. He didn’t mind, but it did make addressing him more difficult for everyone else. ‘It’s alright, lad,’ Blackwall said, ‘It isn’t your fault.’ He saw Brandon relax a bit. ‘Now then, where is Willum? Doesn’t he usually take guard duty with you?’

‘Infirmary, Ser. He broke an ankle sparring this afternoon,’ Weever replied.

‘Don’t call me ‘Ser’,’ Blackwall said. ‘Who is this? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.’

Bull was looming over the terrified guard. ‘Teo Allard, Ser,’ his face paled to the point of ghostly.

‘I’m not a Ser anymore. Just call me Blackwall. I’m no better than the rest of you.’

Brandon made a derisive noise.

‘You have something to say?’ Bull asked.

‘Permission to speak freely?’ Weever asked.

‘I’m a merc and this is just Blackwall,’ Bull said, ‘You don't need our permission to talk.’

‘Begging your pardons, _Sers_ ,’ Brandon looked pointedly at Blackwall. ‘You protect Lady Lavellan every day. From demons and darkspawn. You’ll be with her at the end, won't you? Protecting her. And I’ll call you ‘Ser’ if I like!’ Brandon exclaimed.

‘I appreciate the loyalty, lad,’ Blackwall said, clapping the young man on the shoulder, ‘Just watch who’s around when you say it. Now then,’ Blackwall turned to Allard, ‘how long have you been with the Inquisition?’

‘Since the beginning, Ser,’ Teo replied proudly. ‘Lied about my age to join the Inquisition army in Redcliffe. Just made my way up to the Skyhold guard.’

‘He’s one of Ryssa Pavus’ cousins, Ser,’ Brandon said.

‘You can vouch for him?’

‘Yes, Ser!’ Brandon was adamant, ‘I would never let just anyone guard Lady Lavellan’s door.’

Blackwall crossed his arms and gave Allard a piercing look, ‘What do you think Bull?’

‘I think we trust Weever’s judgment,’ Bull said seriously, ‘that’s what it’s there for.’

‘Fair enough,’ Blackwall replied, ‘I’m going up, you coming?’

‘Not without my cape,’ Bull grinned.

‘Ser?’ Brandon said cautiously, ‘I can’t let you go up.’

‘You can’t?’ Blackwall stifled a grin, ‘Who’s stopping you?’

‘Enchanter Pavus was very specific,’ Brandon said, ‘Only commander Rutherford is allowed in the Lady’s Tower - Ser.’

Bull laughed heartily. Blackwall couldn’t help but join him, ‘I’m sorry you got involved in Dorian’s joke.’

‘Ser?’ Brandon asked.

‘Dorian is just trying to get under Blackwall’s skin,’ Bull said.

‘He won’t yell at you, Weever, I promise,’ Blackwall patted the guard’s shoulder again and opened the door, ‘wish me luck.’

‘You’ll need it,’ Bull laughed.

‘Wait till I tell him you lost your cape,’ Blackwall shot back.

‘You wouldn’t,’ Bull pleaded as the door clicked shut. 

***

Blackwall opened the door to Vhenaria’s room and made the mistake of calling up to her as he climbed. Dorian appeared at the top of the stairs, arms folded across his chest. Blackwall had to admit Dorian looked amazing. Midnight blue trousers and white tunic with a midnight sash, just like Bull - but Dorian wore it better. Dorian was wearing his cape, his hair was perfect, and jeweled rings blazed on nearly every finger. Somehow the mage made all that glitz work for him. ‘Wait right there, Big Man. You aren’t allowed up here,’ Dorian warned.

‘Nice outfit, Dorian. You are looking particularly-’

‘Dazzling?’ Dorian supplied.

‘I was going to say fuzzy, but have it your way,’ Blackwall grinned. ‘I’m not here to discuss fashion with you. I came to see the Lady.’

Dorian held out a hand, ‘Forget it. I’m not letting you pass. You especially - are not allowed to see our Dove.’

Blackwall took another step up, ‘What do you think you are going to do with that?’ Blackwall gestured at Dorian’s hand. ‘Surely you aren’t pointing magic fingers at me.’

‘I’m not sure yet, but whatever I do, I imagine Dove will take me to task for it later.’

‘I just found out I’m not allowed to sit with her at the feast. I only wanted to come up here to give her a good luck kiss-’

‘You mean grope,’ Dorian replied with a grin.

‘A good luck kiss,’ Blackwall chuckled, ‘before she has to go down and be The Inquisitor.’

‘Well you aren’t coming up. I will give her a kiss for you. You aren’t allowed to see her outfit - and I am much less likely to leave handprints on her-

‘Dorian!’ Vhenaria’s laugh floated down the stairs.

‘Dress,’ Dorian retorted in mock outrage, ‘I was going to say dress!’

‘Even I know that’s not true,’ It was Ryssa’s voice.

‘Speaking of clothes,’ said Blackwall, running his hands down the front of his tunic, ‘did you pick this out for me?’

‘I did not,’ Dorian protested, ‘I _designed_ it for you. You smell good too. I see you finally mastered bathing. And thank the Maker you found a comb. You don’t like it?’

‘It must have taken whole minutes to design black trousers with a black jacket,’ Blackwall smirked, ‘It’s very…..’

‘It’s you, Big Man. It’s black and you are built like a wall,’ Dorian drew a rectangle in the air.

A hail of giggles from up above. 

‘The pants are a little tight-’ Blackwall began.

‘I disagree,’ Dorian replied with an appraising look.

‘He looks good?‘ Vhenaria called from her room.

‘Almost good enough to be seen with you, my dear Dove,’ Dorian grinned, ‘I did well.’ He turned back to Blackwall, ‘You don’t match the Inquisitor but I thought dressing you in green would make you look like a lumberjack and that would be a little….on the nose.’

‘You dressed the Inquisitor like a lumberjack?’ Blackwall asked and got the satisfaction of more giggling.

‘No, I dressed her like a queen. Josie said I wasn’t allowed to put a crown on her head, but I did what I could. She’s a vision, Blackwall, and you aren’t allowed to see her yet.’

‘And why not?’ Blackwall had had his fun and he truly only wanted a kiss. 

‘Because if you see her now you will start undoing what it took me all day to achieve. We need her to stay dressed, at least for the next few hours.’

‘My Lady,’ Blackwall called, ‘May I enter?’

There was a long pause, ‘I’m fine. I’m just a little nervous and frustrated with the seating and as fond as I am of Cullen I would rather open the dancing with you instead of him. If you come up I’m just going to get more upset. I’m trying to remember my speech and how to walk in this dress and the Orlesian Ambassador's name and - please, _Mir'vhen_ , just let me get through this part and after the ball everyone is coming up here for our own Satinalia party and you can have every bit of my attention. _Ar lath ma_. But please can you wait in the Hall?’

She had said it again. Ar lath ma - ‘I love you.’ Vhenaria was never shy about telling him that she loved him. She said it often - with no concern or reproach that he had never said it to her.

Blackwall could hear the stress in her voice. He wanted to comfort her, but he saw the sense in her words. And Dorian’s for that matter. ‘Alright, My Lady, I will go,’ Blackwall backed down the steps, ‘Speaking of staying dressed, Bull is down in the Hall, bare armed, flexing for the servants, and the Guard, and really anyone who will pay attention.’

Dorian started down the stairs, then stopped. He narrowed his eyes at Blackwall. ‘That’s not true.’

‘Not all of it, no.’ Blackwall cast a wicked smile up at Dorian.

‘Ryssa, my dear, please go with Blackwall and ask Bull to put his cape back on. Commander Rutherford will be here any moment.’

There was a rustle of skirts, some whispers, and a giggle, then Ryssa appeared on the stairs. A refugee from Haven, she had only recently discovered she was a mage. Dorian had saved Ryssa from her mother and taken her under his wing. She matched Dorian perfectly in a white gown with a midnight blue sash. It made Blackwall wonder how Dorian had had time for anything other than fabric swatches for the last month. Blackwall held out a hand, ‘You look lovely this evening, Messenger Ryssa.’

‘Thank you, Blackwall,’ Ryssa replied, still uncomfortable with the absence of a title before his name. She took his hand gracefully and stepped down towards him. ‘Lady Lavellan asked me to give this to you,’ she said kissing him on the cheek. 

‘Why thank you,’ he bowed and kissed her hand. ‘Shall we?’ he asked, holding out his arm for her.

‘That’s not really what she wanted to give you, but after all I just turned eleven, and anything else would have been inappropriate,’ Ryssa said airily, setting her hand on his arm.

Blackwall glanced back over Ryssa’s head at Dorian who was choking on his laughter and holding the stair rail for support. Blackwall frowned, ‘Tomorrow we are going to discuss just how much time this child spends with you.’

***

As Cullen climbed the stairs to the Inquisitor's room, he saw Blackwall and Ryssa coming down. Cullen had witnessed the anger and disappointment in Blackwall’s face when the warrior spoke with Josie earlier and half expected a fight. Despite Ryssa’s age, she and Blackwall were walking formally, Blackwall’s left arm held out for his companion to place her right hand on his wrist. _Humoring a child_ , Cullen thought.

Though he outranked Blackwall, Cullen was unaccompanied and expected to give way. Cullen saw no reason not to humor Ryssa as well, so he stepped to the side to allow them to pass. Blackwall paused and completely surprised Cullen with a perfect salute, which Cullen returned automatically. ‘Good evening, Commander,’ Blackwall said, ‘I trust you know Messenger Ryssa.’

‘Yes - we are acquainted,’ Cullen responded as protocol demanded, with a brief bow, ‘Leader of the Messenger Corps and Enchanter Pavus’ ward. It is a pleasure to see you this evening. May I say you look lovely.’

‘Thank you Commander,’ Ryssa beamed and smoothed her dress, ‘I’m looking forward to the dancing,’ Ryssa replied, delighted at the attention from the gentlemen and proud that she knew what to say. 

‘As am I,’ Cullen replied, ‘perhaps we can take a turn about the floor.’

‘I do hope so,’ said Ryssa with a smile, she could feel the blush rising to her cheeks. 

‘The Commander has business with the Inquisitor,’ said Blackwall, ‘Shall we let him go?’

‘Of course, Blackwall,’ Ryssa wasn’t sure that the correct answer, but it sounded right.

‘Commander,’ Blackwall nodded and moved down the stairs.

‘Blackwall,’ Cullen replied. As he reached the door to the Inquisitor's quarters he looked back down the stairs. Blackwall had been completely proper. There had been no trace of malice, anger or sarcasm. The exchange had not been an exercise in protocol for Ryssa’s benefit, Cullen realized. That was just Blackwall’s way. It seemed he had simply accepted his new position. Setting that thought aside, Cullen opened the door to last flight of stairs. If there must be a public celebration, best to get it over with.

***

When Cullen reached the top of the stairs in the Inquisitor’s quarters, Dorian stepped from the greenery of the Inquisitor’s famous plant collection looking perfect as usual. Cullen wondered how the Enchanter had time for anything past grooming. ‘Well,’ Dorian said picking lint from the front of Cullen’s tunic and smoothing the mossy green sash that crossed Cullen’s chest, ‘you’ll have to do,’ Dorian fluffed Cullen’s hair, ‘no one will be looking at you anyway.’

‘Why, thank you, Enchanter,’ Cullen replied blandly, ‘I fear I don’t have your talent with a comb.’

‘Yes, well - that seems to be a regional problem,’ Dorian smiled. He turned to the Inquisitor, ‘Are you ready, Dove?’

Dorian stepped aside, and Cullen saw Vhenaria standing in the middle of the room, a vision of white and green. In the profusion of foliage, she looked like a halla doe he had once seen in the forest. Beautiful, wild, and likely to bolt. Cullen didn’t have time to take in the details of her dress before Dorian began fussing over her. ‘Remember to keep your chin up, Dove. And stand straight,’ Dorian adjust the hem of the white dress, ‘Thank you for putting your shoes back on, I love you for it.’

“Don’t get excited, _Mir’dath_ ,’ Vhenaria said, ‘They’re coming back off under the table.’

‘Calling me ‘Sweetie’ doesn’t make it better,’ Dorian groused.

Cullen approached the Inquisitor and bowed smartly. She reached out her hand as Josie had taught her. ‘Commander,’ Vhenaria’s voice trembled a bit. She hated this. The fallacy of formality.

Cullen thought back to when they had first come to Skyhold, she had flirted with him on a few occasions, but he had never felt comfortable responding. She was The Herald of Andraste and he was focused on his responsibilities to the Inquisition. Now he wondered how things might have been different. Cullen stepped forward and took her hand. It was ice cold. ‘Let’s just be us,’ Cullen said, ‘it will be easier - don’t you think?’

Vhenaria smiled gratefully, ‘Thank you, Cullen.’

‘Now, I know I’m not what you had in mind as an escort,’ Cullen asked, ‘but will I do?’

‘I want to talk to you about that.’

‘Not now, Dove,’ Dorian cautioned, ‘it’s time.’

Vhenaria looked from Dorian to Cullen and back again. Her skin paled and the green Vallaslin of Sylaise stood out boldly above the scar that bisected the left side of her mouth. ‘This is-’ She looked trapped, ‘I can’t do this,’ her voice rose.

Cullen recognized the sound of impending panic. He held up one hand to quell Dorian’s inevitable protest, and squeezed Vhenaria’s hand with the other, ‘Of course you can,’ he said, ’I’ll be right next to you every minute. You know your speech perfectly - If you forget, just look my way, I’ll be close enough to whisper. At dinner - I will know what to say if you don’t,’ He smiled gallantly, ‘Rest assured, I hate these things as much as you do. Only Lady Vivienne and Dorian will be having any fun.’

‘I’d resent that,’ Dorian said, ‘If it wasn’t true.’

‘Thank you, Cullen,’ Vhenaria said, and the smile that warmed her eyes was just for him. Cullen had a mad and momentary impulse to kiss her. He pushed the thought away along with the sudden image of having to duel Blackwall in the Great Hall in front of the Orlesian Ambassador. Not that he thought he might lose, but it would be bad form during a diplomatic event. 

‘All right, then’ Dorian kissed Vhenaria’s cheek gently, then turned to Cullen, ‘You know your cue?’

‘I do,’ Cullen replied.

Dorian left the room in a flurry of white fur, leaving behind the scent of sandalwood.

Cullen held out his arm, Vhenaria tucked her hand under his elbow and they started down the stairs. ‘Now then, Vhenaria said, ‘Let’s talk about Blackwall.’

‘He handled the news well, ‘Cullen replied, ‘I expected him to lose his temper.’

‘When have you ever seen Blackwall lose his temper?’ she asked. And it occurred to Cullen that while the man never met a dirty joke he didn’t like and was an occasionally boisterous if not reckless drunk, Cullen could not remember Blackwall ever really losing his temper. ‘Why did you wait until tonight to tell us?’ Vhenaria continued.

‘Josie’s idea actually,’ Cullen confided, ‘this way we avoided weeks of upset, argument, and possible death threats over a fight you could not win.’

‘Ever the diplomat,’ Vhenaria sighed.

‘She was being your friend.’ Cullen said.

‘I know,’ Vhenaria answered, ‘and I do understand the need for it. You know I consider you a friend, but if I had to dress as a fairy tale I’d rather spend the evening with the stable boy than the prince.’

Cullen laughed out loud at that. ‘I hope you aren’t calling me a prince. Besides - Blackwall is hardly a boy and you are no fairy tale. You look,’ his face sobered, ‘divine.’

‘Another job I don’t want,’ she deflected the compliment even as her face flushed.

‘Don’t worry, Leliana and Vivienne would never let that happen.’

‘They’d kill me in my sleep first,’ Vhenaria laughed.

‘May I make one more plea before we go out there?’ Cullen asked carefully.

‘Should I be nervous?’

‘No,’ Cullen said, ‘Just - later - during the dancing, could you and Blackwall,’ the commander looked uncomfortable, ‘practice a little discretion.’

‘Not you too Cullen,’ Vhenaria was exasperated. ‘I’ll try to keep my clothes on.’ If anything, she and Blackwall weren’t half as demonstrative as Dorian and Bull were. Especially when they here in Skyhold. Blackwall was a remarkably passionate man, but surprisingly reserved around the others. 

‘Ambassador Gavreau knows about the two of you,’ Cullen returned, ‘but there is no reason to flaunt it either.’

‘Everybody knows about the two of us, but we are always discreet,’ Vhenaria replied testily, ‘too discreet if you ask me.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Cullen replied, ‘you’re right, of course - I just want this to go smoothly. And I daresay, I’m as nervous as you are.’

‘You are not,’ Vhenaria was genuinely surprised.

‘I am.’ Cullen reddened just a bit.

They had finally reached the door to the Great Hall. Any moment now she was going to have to go out there and face all those people. ‘Couldn’t I just go close a Fade Rift, or take a stroll in the Deep Roads instead?’

‘Sounds like a better way to spend the evening,’ Cullen sighed, resigned to the fate of the next few hours. ‘Time to be The Inquisitor,’ he said and Vhenaria moved her hand from under Cullen’s elbow and placed it gently on his wrist. She stood straight, eyes front.

‘You’re right by the way,’ Vhenaria said slyly, ‘Blackwall is no boy.’

Cullen turned scarlet but Vhenaria couldn’t tell if it was embarrassment, restrained laughter, or both. She giggled and turned red as well. She wasn’t even sure why she had said it. The whole situation was just so ridiculous.

The trumpets began their flourish, ‘Now? Really?’ Cullen said trying to regain some semblance of decorum.

‘Sorry, I couldn’t help it,’ she gave his wrist a friendly squeeze. 

They were being announced. Cullen threw his head back, looked at the ceiling and took a deep breath. He was composed but still blushing just a bit. ‘Are you ready?’ he said calmly.

Vhenaria nodded and Cullen reached for the door handle.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to sit down to the Satinalia Feast.  
> Can Vhenaria get through the meal without insulting the Orlesian Ambassador?

Blackwall walked Ryssa to her seat with the other messengers then found the bench he would share with Cole. Sera and Bull, now wearing his cape, sat across from them. Ranged across the dais on both sides of the throne were the important individuals that would sit at the head table, including Vivienne, Varric, Cass, Leliana, Josie, the Orlesian Ambassador, and the two diplomats who had accompanied her. The throne itself was a marvel. Specially designed by Dagna and Vhenaria to reflect the Inquisitor’s Elven heritage, the throne was ivory white and appeared to grow right out of the floor in sinewy lines, the back rising into a trellis reminiscent of halla horns. The rear of the piece was fashioned to allow plantings of a climbing vine with delicate white flowers called Stars of Sylaise so the throne itself seemed alive.

The door to the tower opened and Dorian entered the room. With a wave of his hand little lights glowed among the flowers on the Inquisitor’s throne. Everyone in the hall rose to their feet. Instead of taking his place on the dais, Dorian came to stand next to Blackwall.

‘Don’t you belong up there?’ Blackwall said.

‘I do,’ Dorian replied, ‘but the vantage point will be better from here.’

‘Vantage-’ Blackwall began. There was a blast of trumpets. Brandon Weever stepped forward and in a calm clear voice, announced the arrival of ‘Her Worship, the Herald of Andraste, Inquisitor Vhenaria Lavellan and her escort, Commander Cullen Rutherford.’ 

The door opened again and at first Blackwall could only see Cullen. He was blushing a little and Blackwall wondered what had been said before the door opened. He felt a momentary pang of jealousy and then he saw Vhenaria and his heart simply stopped. She was glorious. Her gown was ivory satin with a wide neck that just caught her shoulders. The bodice was embellished with green embroidery that mimicked the elven carvings they had found at Skyhold and the skirt cascaded luxuriously to the floor. Vhenria’s shoulders peeked out from above two bands of white fur which somehow held a green diaphanous cape that flowed about her like a mist. The trailing ends of the cape were attached to silver filigree bracers that covered her arms from the wrists almost to the elbow. They were fashioned as the same Stars of Sylaise on the throne, but here the tiny white flowers were picked out in pearls and there was a cuff of fur around the top edges of the armbands.

Blackwall realized he was holding his breath. Everyone in the room was holding their breath. Cullen guided the Inquisitor to the dais and up the stairs. The ethereal cape was attached in a deep swoop to leave the Lady’s back bare, and the skirt flowed out into a modest train. Her auburn hair had been somehow curled under and held another band of Stars of Sylaise. It was a crown, or as close as Dorian was allowed to get. It was a message. She was the Inquisitor, she might even be the Herald, but there was no mistaking the pride she felt in being Dalish. Blackwall felt small and awkward in her presence. Was she Andraste returned, or Sylaise herself, or the woman he had come to love?

Cullen stepped aside, and the Inquisitor turned to face the hall framed in halla horns and flowers. The effect was now complete, and the room was a vast, almost smothering, silence. The Inquisitor smiled graciously, and began, ‘Gathered friends, and noble allies, welcome to Skyhold.’ She continued from there but Blackwall wasn’t listening to her words. He had heard them enough times in the last week while helping her memorize the speech. What Blackwall could hear, though he doubted anyone else could, was the slightest tremble in her voice. Her eyes scanned the room. She was more distressed than she appeared.

Blackwall heard Dorian’s voice in his ear, ‘Our Dove is getting nervous, I promised her I would stand near you, where she could see us.’ Dorian made a brief motion with his hand and a tiny green flame sprang from the tips of his fingers. Vhenaria saw the little moving light and her gaze turned towards them. She locked eyes with Blackwall and her smile finally reached her eyes, the tremble left her voice. Dorian’s hand rested on Blackwall’s shoulder, ‘You, my good man, are the luckiest man in Thedas.’ he said.

‘I know,’ Blackwall said, dazed by the mere thought. Vhenaria could have anyone she wanted, and she had picked him. It was absurd. ‘Why me?’

He hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud until Dorian answered, ‘I wonder about that all the time. You know, Big Man, if I were inclined that way, I would kill you to be with her,’ he said.

‘You would die trying,’ Blackwall replied, chuckling softly. 

‘It would be an interesting day, I’ll warrant,’ Dorian acknowledged. Blackwall could hear the grin on the mage’s face. 

Blackwall tore his eyes from Vhenaria long enough to glance at Cullen. The Commander stood perfectly straight with his hands behind his back, ready to be of assistance if called upon. _He looks so - Good_ , Blackwall thought. A perfect match for the Inquisitor. And yet she chooses me. 

Vhenaria finished her speech and settled on the throne. Maybe now she would stop trembling. A team of servants appeared from the door to the Undercroft and in what seemed like mere moments a long trestle table was set before her, covered with a linen cloth, set with silver plate, white and blue candles, and crystal goblets. Chairs were brought from the same door and arranged behind the table.

Cullen sat down at Vhenaria’s right hand and the Orlesian Ambassador, Renae Gavreau, at her left. The first course arrived, and the platters were set so guests could serve themselves. Onion confit, pears cooked in spiced wine, and fluffy white bread. Vhenaria was so nervous she wasn’t sure she would be able to eat. She knew she would have to talk to Ambassador Gavreau and the mere thought made her want to run back to her Tower. Renae was a disapproving and self-absorbed person, even by Orlesian standards. Empress Celene had sent Gavreau as a message. The Inquisition had saved Celene’s life and preserved her rule, but the debt had been paid when the Empress allowed Blackwall to be judged by the Inquisitor. Orlais would support the Inquisition but their participation would be limited.

Vhenaria picked at her spiced pears half-heartedly, wishing she was at the Herald’s Rest with the Chargers - eating druffalo stew and drinking too much. She kicked off the little slippers that Dorian had insisted she wear and tried to relax, but Ambassador Gavreau was looking around the room with an ugly expression on an otherwise lovely face.

‘Is something troubling you, Ambassador?’ Vhenaria asked taking a bite of the pear. Warm and delicate and lightly spiced. Delicious.

‘Your decoration is very...’ Gavreau glanced at the silver leaves and flowers twined around Vhenaria’s arm, ‘Elven.’

‘Both Dalish and Ancient, yes.’

‘Unnecessarily so,’ Gaveau said.

‘It is sad, I know.’ Vhenaria deflected, ‘I have so little understanding of Elven architecture. I do the best I can. And I cannot look to the end of the journey for inspiration.’

‘The end of the journey?’ Renae Gavreu repeated the words slowly, unsure she had heard the Inquisitor correctly.

‘Halamshiral,’ Vhenaria said with a distinct Elven accent. She heard Cullen’s fork clatter against the table and ignored it, ‘It means ‘the end of the journey.’ Unfortunately, it has lost most of the traces of its elven past. Skyhold is also Elven. I only try to honor its history.’

‘The Inquisition is not a Dalish endeavor,’ Gavreau snapped.

‘And yet here I sit,’ Vhenaria touched her Vallaslin with a gesture that suggested it was absentminded. ‘If I must use a throne, should it not be to my liking?’

Josie shot Vhenaria a look from where she was sitting on Gavreau’s left, and changed the subject abruptly, ‘Ambassador, I was hoping for news of the Contois family, I have not seen Teress in some time…’

‘Please, Vhenaria,’ Cullen whispered in her ear, ‘don’t antagonize the Ambassador.’

‘I wasn’t,’ her tone was fierce though her face remained calm, she bent her head toward Cullen, ‘she antagonized me.’

‘That is why she is here, my dear,’ said Vivienne dryly from Cullen’s’ right.

‘A fine way to treat a host,’ Vhenaria managed to keep her voice even, as she helped herself to more of the pears, ‘that is not how I was raised.’

Cullen put his hand over hers, ‘I know. But please...’

‘I will try,’ Vhenaria allowed.

*** 

As the first course was cleared away, Blackwall glanced at the head table and frowned. Cullen was whispering in Vhenaria’s ear - again. Her head was bent towards his and she was smiling. Blackwall was trying not to be rude to the folks at his table, but he kept watching her. She was smiling, yes. But it was forced. He knew that look, it was reserved for moments when she could not understand the foolishness of humans. The second course was coming out now. On the platter set before them was a whole duck, glazed with egg yolks to look like it was made of gold, surrounded by herb fritters and roasted carrots. Bull expertly carved the bird into pieces and served their table. ‘Now that the food has your attention, Blackwall,’ he said jovially, ‘I’ll return to our earlier conversation. I don’t need a shield. If I swing that big axe at you, you can’t get close enough to hit me.’

Blackwall smiled, and deliberately looked at Bull instead of past him towards the head table. ‘Perhaps. But you aren’t the only type of fighter I’m going to meet on the field. I’d much rather have the protection of a shield-’ Blackwall was interrupted by a tug on his sleeve. He looked down to see Anabelle’s little face, peeking from a mass of light blue ruffles, edged in white lace. Josie had dressed her, Blackwall was sure of it. ‘Hello there, Sprout,’ he said, ‘you look very pretty.’

‘I know,’ she said enthusiastically, ‘and see my dress too.’ Belle started to climb up on the bench. She was clutching the ever-present toy bear that Blackwall had given her, ‘Want to sit with Bearwall.’

Blackwall picked up the three-year-old and set her on one knee. He glanced around the room. Someone was probably looking for Belle. He caught Hanna Dilber’s eye. Vhenaria’s personal maid, Hanna was very much the matron, and was currently keeping track of the children that Vhenaria had insisted attend the feast. Blackwall and Hanna nodded at one another and all was well. Blackwall pushed his plate towards the little one and told her she could only sit with him if she ate some vegetables. She picked up a piece of carrot in her fingers and popped it in her mouth without complaint. Satisfied, Blackwall looked back at Bull, ‘Like I was saying, I’d much rather have the protection of a shield, than rely on trying to block and slash with one oversized weapon.’

‘I don’t need to block your swing if I’ve severed your arm.’

‘But while you’re trying to bring that big axe around to hit me, I’ve already stabbed you in the gut.’

‘In the balls more like,’ Sera quipped around a mouthful of duck.

‘It also depends on the opponent,’ Bull said, ‘You and I are pretty well matched. Though we haven’t sparred in a while.’

‘If you call giving me that concussion well-matched,’ Blackwall replied amiably, ‘Tomorrow then?’

Bull sipped his wine, and glanced Dorian’s way, ‘In the afternoon. I think I’ll be sleeping in.’ 

‘My way’s better,’ Sera piped up again, then swallowed her food, ‘Stand behind a tree and pick ‘em off with arrows, yeah? More fun - and not so messy.’ She wiped her hand on her pant leg.

‘Yes,’ said Bull, ‘I can see that you are concerned with messes.’

Meanwhile, Belle and Cole were pretending the silverware were people. There seemed to be a complicated plot, involving the toy bear, that only a three-year-old and a spirit could understand. Belle ate another carrot and smiled up at Blackwall.

‘You look good like that, Blackwall,’ Bull said, inclining his chin towards Belle, ‘you should get one of those for yourself.’

‘Where do you get a little girl?’ Cole asked, ‘Do you get to choose how old it is when you get it?’

‘You’ve got to give it to a girl before she can give you one, right?’ Sera said with a loud laugh.

‘That’s enough, Sera,’ said Blackwall, ‘don’t confuse the lad.’ He turned to Cole, ‘I’ll explain it to you tomorrow.’ He hardly needed children of his own with these two around. Though Sera was more like a little sister. 

‘If she has lost parents, new ones could find her,’ Cole said in his distracted way, ‘Did you find her?’

‘In a manner of speaking,’ Blackwall looked down at Belle. She was an orphan, her parents killed in Haven. Her aunt had brought her to Skyhold with the rest of the refugees but in reality, Belle was one of the Children of Skyhold. Orphaned children who would likely freeze if Josie and Vhenaria hadn’t taken it upon themselves to see that they were fed and had a place to sleep inside the castle walls. Right now, Belle was waving her little hand at the head table. He looked up to see Vhenaria beaming at him and waving at Belle. Blackwall grinned sheepishly back at her. Belle was a favorite of both of theirs, but she had Blackwall wrapped around her chubby little finger and Vhenaria knew it. 

To Vhenaria’s left Gavreau made a disapproving noise that sounded so much like Cassandra that Vhenaria almost laughed out loud. ‘Is the duck not to your liking, Ambassador Gavreau,’ Vhenaria asked innocently.

‘The food is magnificent, Your Worship,’ the ambassador replied, ‘It is the presence of that _bete noire_ in your hall.’

‘She means someone - particularly detestable,’ Cullen said quietly, ‘a ‘black beast’.’

‘I don’t need to know Orlesian to understand an insult when I hear it, Commander, but thank you.’ Vhenaria’s heart was pounding. Josie had warned her, as Cullen had, that saving Blackwall’s life would cost them dearly. The Wardens had wanted to take him back to Weisshaupt and make him undergo the Joining ritual, but that was out of the question. The Wardens had already been corrupted by Corypheus’ influence. Meanwhile, Orlais wanted to execute him as a traitor. ‘So you believe there is no hope for a man who has done horrible things.’ Vhenaria said patiently.

‘Rainier killed children, Your Worship,’ the ambassador was blunt.

He had. There was no denying that. Rainier hadn’t known the children would be there, but when he had realized it – it hadn’t stayed his hand. Vhenaria glanced down at Blackwall sitting there with little Anabelle on his knee. She still couldn’t believe that this man and Thom Rainier were the same person. But there was no use arguing the case, ‘He did, and there is no excuse for it,’ Vhenaria said. Cullen made a small uncomfortable sound next to her. The Commander was still having trouble dealing with Rainier’s abuse of power. He had lied to his men and when things went bad, then cut them loose. To Cullen that was nearly as bad as the massacre itself. Vhenaria gently squeezed Cullen’s wrist, acknowledging his discomfort, but her eyes never left Gavreau’s. ‘May I ask you a question Ambassador?’

‘Of Course,’ Renae replied.

‘You called me ‘Your Worship.’ Do you believe that?’

‘Believe?’

‘That I am the Herald of Andraste?’ Vhenaria said.

‘It does not matter what I think,’ Gavreau deflected, ‘only what the people believe.’

‘Most of the people in this room, in Skyhold, in Ferelden and even Orlais believe that I am the Herald.’

‘Yes, Your Worship,’ Gavreau’s voice rippled with sarcasm, ‘all the more reason to set a certain standard for others to follow.’

‘It has been explained to me that forgiveness and love are the Maker’s highest standards. That no one is without worth.’ Vhenaria said pleasantly, spearing an herb fritter on her fork, ‘If there is hope for a man like Blackwall, there is hope for us all. And if there is no hope for Blackwall - then we are wasting our time, Ambassador.’

‘He is-’

‘Repentant.’ Vhenaria finished coolly. She popped the fritter into her mouth and chewed slowly. From the corner of her eye she could see Renae Gavreau’s stunned expression. Vhenaria finished the bite and instead of addressing the ambassador she turned to Cullen. ‘Commander, has Blackwall ever failed the Inquisition?’

‘No, Inquisitor,’ Cullen replied reluctantly, ‘He has not.’

‘He constantly risks his life for me and my mission to destroy Corypheus. Does he not?’

‘Yes, he does.’

‘His behavior since joining the Inquisition has been exemplary, has it not?’

Cullen wasn’t willing to go that far, ‘Other than misleading us as to his identity - yes he has.’

Vhenaria was aware that a hush had fallen over the table, ‘I will not ask any of you if I made a mistake in pardoning him,’ Vhenaria said calmly, ‘but I will ask you to consider if we are stronger with him or without him. Are our odds better having Blackwall with us? With me?’ She turned a fierce gaze at Renae Gavreau, ‘And to you Ambassador I will say this. Without Blackwall there is no Inquisition, there is no hope. He would not let me quit, even if I could. Without Blackwall at my side I will gladly wander back to the Free Marches and leave Corypheus to you.’ Vhenaria’s face softened, ‘Ah, the next course is here. The cooks do wonders with roast tusket. Please Ambassador, try some. The potatoes melt in your mouth.’ 

***

The desserts were just coming out of the kitchens when Blackwall caught Bull looking past him with an expression of concern, ‘Hey Rys, you ok?’

He turned to see Ryssa on the verge of tears, ‘Blackwall?’ her voice came out low and strained, ‘Those Orlesian girls said,’ she gulped, ‘that you did,’ she wanted to ask but couldn’t bear to hear the answer, ‘some things. And that you shouldn’t be allowed to eat in the hall with decent people.’ The tears came then. Sera tossed Blackwall the napkin she hadn’t bothered to use, and he handed it to Ryssa.

This was his fault. Blackwall should have talked to her about it before. He had foolishly, desperately hoped that Dorian had taken care of this. The Feast Hall was not the best time and place, but it would have to do. Blackwall stood up and handed Belle over the table to Bull. She squealed with delight and grabbed Bull’s horns.

‘You got this, Big Guy?’ Bull had his own parental instincts where Ryssa was concerned.

‘I do,’ Blackwall said grimly, ‘It’s my mess, isn’t it?’

They shared a knowing look and Bull set the froth of ruffles that was Belle on his shoulder, ‘Ok, Little One, let’s see what Dorian has for dessert.’

‘I want cocoa!’ Belle chirped.

‘That’s my favorite too,’ chuckled Bull.

Ryssa sat down next to Blackwall with her back to the table, ‘They said-’

‘I can guess what they said,’ Blackwall replied. He closed his eyes and sighed, ‘Why don’t I just tell you what I did.’

‘Don’t need to hear this story again, yeah?’ said Sera getting up from the table, ‘I’ll go play with the kiddies a bit.’

Blackwall caught Dorian’s concerned look from the high table and waved a reassuring hand. Then he gave Ryssa his complete attention, ‘I killed some people.’

‘You kill people all the time,’ her tone was matter of fact.

‘Not like this. I- killed unarmed people,’ he realized then why he hadn’t had this conversation with Ryssa before. He had prayed he’d never have to repeat it after telling Vhenaria from his prison cell in Val Royeaux. Ryssa was staring at him. She didn’t want to hear it anymore than he wanted to say it. ‘I - lied to my men. We killed an unarmed man, his wife, and their children,’ he was struggling now to keep his voice even, ‘four of them.’

‘No, you didn’t,’ Ryssa said, tears slipping down her cheeks. She had heard this rumor before but had discounted it as idle gossip. Ryssa had even snuck into the Hall when Lady Lavellan judged him just so she could hear the charges. But Lady Josephine hadn’t read them. ‘You couldn’t do that! Why are you lying?’

‘Ryssa,’ Blackwall began.

‘He’s not lying, but that isn’t the truth,’ Cole interrupted.

Blackwall had forgotten Cole was still there. The boy was either weird or invisible, nothing in between. ‘Cole, not right now.’

Cole ignored Blackwall completely and looked at Ryssa, ‘I see the hurt. Blackwall cannot be both himself and Thom Rainier. And he isn’t,’ Cole reached across Blackwall and touched Ryssa hand, ‘Is a butterfly a caterpillar?’

Ryssa shook her head slowly, ‘of course not.’ Her face relaxed, the tears stopped.

‘Rainier was an ugly caterpillar,’ Cole continued, ‘He went away into the wilderness. Now he is a Blackwall butterfly.’

Blackwall was just happy that Bull and Sera had left the table, because that was a description that could haunt a man permanently.

‘You don’t have to see inside his head to know he is good.’ Cole continued, ‘he just is.’

‘That’s why Lady Lavellan loves you,’ Ryssa said earnestly, and threw her arms around his neck, ‘Because you are good.’

‘I’m trying to be,’ Blackwall replied, a little overwhelmed by the child’s complete trust in him.

Ryssa slid back to the bench and cast an angry look at the table where she had been sitting. The Messengers and the two girls that had come with the Orlesian ambassador were all sitting together. One of the Orlesian girls looked somehow familiar to Blackwall. She had large dark eyes and velvety brown hair. She pointed at them and whispered. ‘That girl though,’ Ryssa said with a dark look, ‘Symone Gavreau is a-’

‘She is just angry because she thinks her mother doesn’t love her,’ Cole said. ‘Sadly, she is right.’

‘Maman left me behind because I am a mage,’ Ryssa was vehement, ‘that doesn’t make it all right to be mean to other people.’ She stood up to go back to her table.

‘No,’ Blackwall said, ‘Sit and have dessert with Cole and me. I know that look. There’ll be no magic in the Hall. You’ll get everyone in trouble.’

‘Are these ‘those ridiculous frilly little cakes’ you say you hate?’ Cole was pulling a silver tray towards them. All were perfectly round and no bigger across than a cookie. Each was encased in a flawlessly smooth candy shell. Some were adorned with flowers, tiny nets, and broken glass made from spun honey syrup. Others had delicate patterns of stars, snowflakes and lace piped in frosting on the tops.

‘Yes, they’re called _Bellbilot_ ,’ Ryssa said, ‘They’re my favorites.’

‘Mine too. Just don’t tell Dorian,’ Blackwall said, taking a bite of a blue cake with a snowflake on the top.

‘He already knows,’ said Cole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anabelle - I think I gave you everything you need in the text for now. She is another recurring character.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The ball itself begins, and two members of the Inner Circle make a wager.

It was time for the dancing to start. The head table was cleared and disassembled and the musicians took their places on the dais. The guests all lent a hand in rearranging the room so there were still desserts and drinks on hand, benches on the sidelines, and plenty of room to dance. Josie stepped forward to arrange Vhenaria’s skirt. She had spent hours teaching the Inquisitor to dance in a dress with a little sweep train. ‘Where are your shoes?’ Josie whispered.

‘I can’t dance in shoes. You know that,’ Vhenaria was trying not to look frustrated.

Cullen intervened, ‘No one will be looking at her feet, Josephine,’ he said, holding out his arm for the Inquisitor.

The music began, and Cullen led her down to the floor. They made the perfect couple and they danced beautifully. Vhenaria looking both regal and carefree as thought she had grown up at court. Cullen handsome and gallant – and for once, almost relaxed. The music lulled, and Josie stepped onto the floor with the Orlesian Ambassador, but no one was watching them. They did not make a pretty picture. Renae still wore an expression of distaste which did nothing for her features and Josie’s smile was diplomatic, not genuine. The music lulled again, and the partners switched. Josie’s smile brightened and Vhenaria’s faded to reserved. There were mummers throughout the room. 

When the last strains of the tune died away, there was applause and the rustle of dresses as partners took the floor. Blackwall wanted to be bold and ask Vhenaria to dance immediately but as he approached, Dorian took the Lady’s hands and they danced away. Then he heard Josie’s voice, ‘Perhaps they are right, you may be a rogue and scoundrel,’ she said merrily.

‘Lady Montilyet?’ Blackwall turned to her.

‘You promised me this dance and yet you only have eyes for another,’ she said melodramatically.

‘You are quite right, Dear Lady, I am a rake,’ he grinned and bowed formally, ‘I beg your forgiveness, Ambassador. Would you honor me with your company on the floor?’

‘I suppose I did promise,’ she sighed in feigned resignation, and took his hands.

Because of their backgrounds, the intricate steps came as easily as breathing and Blackwall wondered if the Orlesians had devised these sorts of partnered dances strictly for private conversation. ‘How did dinner go?’ Blackwall ventured.

‘A diplomatic nightmare,’ Josie said, ‘the Inquisitor didn’t say anything that wasn’t true - of course that was the problem - Gavreau isn’t here for the truth.’

‘She defended me,’ Blackwall said ruefully.

Josie thought about this as she stepped away from him and then back, ‘No - she didn’t.’ Josie said slowly, still running over the conversation in her mind. ‘She defended her decision to pardon you as a just and necessary right of the Inquisition.’

‘She did?’ Blackwall certainly didn’t see it that way. For the first week after his pardon he had hidden in the stables and not spoken to anyone, too embarrassed to face any of his friends. Even now he feared that Cullen and Cass would never forgive him. Not that he could blame them.

‘She did,’ Josie looked steadily at Blackwall, ‘If there is hope for you, there is hope for any truly repentant man. It is a sentiment I happen to agree with.’

Blackwall wasn’t sure what to say.

Josie continued, ‘And then Vhenaria informed Gavreau that without you by her side she’ll quit, go back to the Free Marches and leave Corypheus to the Orlesians.’

‘I doubt that helped her case,’ Blackwall said evenly, though his chest felt tight with love and pride.

The music was coming to its end and Josie smiled at him, ‘You are a wonderful partner, Blackwall. And I think you can dance with her now. If you can get close enough.’

Blackwall looked over to find a small group of people, some he knew and some he didn’t, vying for the Inquisitor’s attention. He made his way through the group as politely as he could and bowed in front of her. ‘My Lady,’ he said, gazing at her tenderly, ‘Would you honor me with a dance.’

‘I would love to,’ she said, her smile dazzling.

The made their way out to the floor and began the steps, staring at each other. Hands just brushing at the turns. She desperately wanted to kiss him. She was tired of the farce and just wanted to settle on the couch with him, upstairs by the fire. Or better yet, in the comfortable little nest they had built in the stable.

Blackwall looked her up and down. ‘I would have you out of that dress, My Lady,’ he said, as his appreciative gaze returned to her eyes. 

‘Oh, you don’t like it?’ Vhenaria asked in a mournful tone, pretending to misunderstand. She fluffed the skirt with her free hand, ‘All Dorian’s work, gone to waste.’ The steps of the dance took her out of earshot, but her eyes never left his. She was wearing a wicked smile.

The dance brought them close again and Blackwall said, ‘My Lady, may I tell you that you look-’

‘Dorian says I am a vision,’ she winked, ‘and Cullen used the word divine.’

A playful challenge, he realized as they moved apart again. He smiled a little beneath the beard. Perfect. Flirting with her was almost as fun as bedding her. They were side by side now, his hand on the small of her back, and he spoke quietly right in her ear. ‘Touching you,’ his thumb made a small circle on her bare skin, ‘is the dream of every man here, My Lady.’

Vhenaria felt shivers all over her body. She did not look at him, but he felt her tremble and her fingertips dug into his arm before they danced away from each other. Vhenaria’s cheeks were rosy and her lips pressed together. Blackwall had won that round.

Vhenaria was forced to dance next with one of the Orlesian diplomats, Ghislan Asenault. He was a tall blond man who looked quite handsome in his red and gold uniform, but Vhenaria remained immune to his charms and he soon lost interest. The moment she was free Blackwall was at her side again leading her back onto the floor.

‘You are very dashing dressed all in black,’ she said, gently brushing invisible lint from his shoulder.

‘Thank you, My Lady,’ Blackwall replied, ‘though I would rather be dressed in green and white.’

‘I’m wondering,’ she said, stepping away and then back again, ‘what you are wearing under your jacket.’

Flirting again already, he thought and smiled, ‘Dorian provided a white linen shirt.’

‘Pity,’ Vhenaria replied. Her admiring gaze took him in from head to toe as his had done to her, ‘I’m not wearing anything under the gown.’ As Blackwall spun her around and pulled her close to his side, he sought a reply, but she didn’t give him a chance. When the music slowed and they began to step apart Vhenaria grabbed the hem of his tunic, ‘Oh!’ she said, ‘my armband is caught on your jacket.’ She looked up at him and moved her other hand between their bodies to pretend to unhook the bracer, ‘accidentally’ brushing her fingertips against the front of his breeches as she did so. The contact was barely a moment and light as a feather, but it was enough to make him gasp.

Abruptly, Bull was there, his considerable bulk shielding them from the rest of the guests, ‘I don’t know what the game is here, but I’m pretty sure the Boss just won,’ he said, taking Vhenaria’s hands. ‘Blackwall go roll in a snowbank or something,’ he said, ‘And you’re right - those pants are a little tight on you, Big Guy.’ As Blackwall wandered away Bull turned to Vhenaria, ‘He looks like you hit him with a hammer.’

‘I got carried away,’ Vhenaria giggled and they started to dance.

‘I’m all for that,’ Bull said cheerily, ‘But that Gavreau lady is ready to pull out all your hair.’

‘We were just - flirting,’ she attempted innocence and failed. ‘All right. It was foreplay.’

Bull laughed heartily, ‘You know, Boss, if you had met me before Blackwall - I think we would have had a lot of fun.’

‘You think I’d look good in rope?’ Vhenaria asked.

‘Everybody looks good in rope,’ Bull replied with a grin, ‘But yes. I think you’d be particularly - tempting.’ 

Vhenaria hugged the big Qunari and laughed, ‘Don’t let Dorian hear you or he’ll be the one pulling out my hair.’

**** 

‘The Inquisitor is still flirting with Blackwall,’ Cassandra said with a snort of disapproval. She and Josie were standing on the sidelines watching the dancing. Vhenaria had wisely divided her attention among the guests. Even so, when she danced with Blackwall it was as though there were no one else in the room. The Orlesian ambassador and the two diplomats stood across from Josie and Cass. Gavreau's arms were folded across her chest and the sour expression she usually wore had become a scowl.

‘I begged them to behave,’ Josie replied. ‘Renae Gavreau stands there fuming and there is little I can do about it.’

‘Why do anything?’ This was Varric, who had overheard the comment. ‘That Orlesian grouse would be fuming to find the moon in the sky tonight. And your Inquisitor isn’t behaving differently than any noble at an Orlesian Satinalia Ball. I think you’re lucky that Hero hasn’t dragged her off into a corner somewhere and-’

‘I think that’s enough,’ Cassandra snapped, ‘she isn’t just any noble. She is the Herald of Andraste.’

‘Oh, Seeker, you don’t still believe that do you?’ Varric didn’t wait for an answer. He honestly didn’t want to know. ‘Give our Songbird a little credit. After all, you wanted Hawke to be your Inquisitor.’ Varric laughed and shook his head, ‘Hawke. You think you could have dressed Hawke up like a goddess and made her come out here and behave? She’d be deep in her cups by now, have called the Ambassador any number of dirty names, and would be off in a corner with Prickles doing - whatever she does to make him smile like a simpleton.’

‘We would not have the problem with Blackwall if Hawke were here instead,’ Cass replied weakly. She knew Hawke was the wrong choice for Inquisitor, but she felt she had to make an argument.

‘You’re wrong about that, Seeker,’ said Varric, ‘Hawke would find Blackwall all the more interesting for his dark past. She would have pardoned him just to see if she could get away with it. He’d be Commander Rainier now and using Curly’s office. Prickles would have torn out Sparkler’s still beating heart just on general Tevinter principles and he and Hawke would have cut a path of mayhem and chaos from one end of Thedas to the other by now.’

‘I only met Jerrika Hawke once,’ said Josie, ‘but you are probably right. Even so. We need help from all quarters if we are going to defeat Corypheus.’

‘You’re looking at it backwards, Ruffles. We shouldn’t have to beg door to door for help. They should be lining up. Our Inquisitor is the only weapon that has any chance of beating that ancient Tevinter bastard. If she fails...’ Varric looked up at Cassandra, ‘If she fails we better hope she really is the Herald, because only the Maker will be able to save us. Even Gavreau knows that much.’

This sobering thought was dispelled by the appearance of Dorian, ‘Beautiful aren’t they?’ he sighed, ‘Just as I planned.’

‘What are you talking about?’ asked Cass.

‘Dove and Blackwall. Look at them.’ Dorian waved his hand at the couple. They were executing the steps of the dance perfectly, backs straight and proper, hands barely touching, eyes only for one another.

‘They are dancing,’ Cass stated flatly.

‘All that planning for nothing,’ Dorian lamented.

‘No. I see it,’ Josie said, ‘He is the black background to the Inquisition banner. And she is the white and green of the crest.’

‘Or they are ‘The Beast and The Maiden’,’ Varric observed.

‘He is a penitent.’ Cassandra realized, ‘She said it at the table. If there is no hope for a man like Blackwall we are wasting our time.’

‘The ladies are concerned that they are flirting too much,’ Varric advised Dorian.

‘That isn’t flirting,’ Dorian replied, ‘everyone is still fully clothed.’

‘That’s what I told them,’ Varric grinned. ‘Blackwall never met a rule he wanted to break. He’ll behave no matter what.’

‘Bet I can get him to break a rule,’ Dorian smiled wickedly.

‘Dorian,’ Josie’s voice had a warning tone.

‘Keep talking, Sparkler,’ Varric’s interest was piqued.

‘I bet I can get Blackwall to kiss the Inquisitor,’ Dorian schemed, ‘right there on the floor.’

‘A wager,’ Varric said, ‘I like it. What are the stakes?’

‘Dorian,’ Cass warned.

‘If I can get Blackwall to kiss Vhenaria - on the lips - right here in the Hall in front of the guests,’ Dorian considered carefully, ‘you bring me breakfast in bed for a month.’

‘This is not funny, Dorian,’ Josie said, though her eyes betrayed her interest.

‘Tell you what, Sparkler,’ Varric said, ‘If you win I’ll be your personal attendant for - two weeks. If I win,’ Varric rubbed his hands together evilly, ‘I get to shave off your moustache.’ Cass and Josie stared at each other in shock. 

‘Don’t be absurd,’ Dorian was incredulous. He stroked his moustache protectively, ‘you don’t attack another man’s facial hair.’

Varric laughed. He missed this sort of thing with his friends in Kirkwall, ‘Scared?’

The two men stared at each other as Dorian weighed his options. ‘Don’t make the bet, Dorian,’ Cass cautioned, ‘You will never win.’

‘And,’ Josie added, ‘if you do win, there will be a host of other difficulties.’

‘Done and done, my good man,’ Dorian said, holding out one beringed hand, ‘I like a rasher of bacon, eggs done-’

‘No so fast,’ Varric clasped Dorian’s hand, ‘you need to win the bet first.’

‘Easier done than said, my dwarven friend,’ Dorian replied. Then he excused himself to speak with the musicians.

***

There was a pause in the music and Dorian approached Blackwall and Vhenaria. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked Blackwall.

‘Not at all,’ Blackwall winked at the Inquisitor, bowed and went to get another cup of wine.

‘Dove,’ Dorian started, ‘do you remember that time in Emprise du Leon - when I was teasing your beloved about dancing.’

‘That one time?’ Vhenaria asked. The music began again. The tune seemed vaguely familiar to her and not like any of the other music she had heard that night.

‘Yes, well - this particular time we were in the Highgrove Camp and I was trying to stay warm by teaching Blackwall and Bull a certain Tevinter dance. _The Lady and Her Suitors_ \- do you remember?’

The tune was taking shape now, the melody was deep and weird, with bass notes like a heartbeat. It got under her skin and into her head. A heady, sensual song she almost recognized. The dance had been a competition of sorts among the ‘Suitors.’ The prize - a kiss from the Lady. ‘ _Mir’dath_ , what are you up too?’

‘Nothing, my dear,’ he said innocently. Dorian moved away from her and executed the first few steps of the dance. Vhenaria looked around and realized the two of them were the only ones left on the floor. Dorian danced around her in a series of bows and sweeps. Her part was to give him her attention until another Suitor joined them. She could match his steps, or not, as she pleased. The performance looked more complicated than it really was because it was all a game. Vhenaria didn’t even get to choose the winner. The Suitors, and sometimes the spectators, did. Though right now there was only one. Then she saw Dorian smile and look past her. Vhenaria turned to see Bull dancing toward her. She laughed out loud and matched his steps. Now it was a competition. Both men trying to garner her attention. A few moments later, Blackwall joined them. The music wove around them, sensuous and dreamy. Vhenaria was aware that this probably wasn’t what Cullen and Josie had in mind when they cautioned her and Blackwall about their behavior. But Dorian had started this, and she was enjoying herself as her three Suitors, the men she loved most in the world, each attempted to charm her away from the others.

Bull lifted her right off the floor and spun her around to set her gently at his side. She laughed breathlessly and danced with him until Blackwall began a complicated jig of sorts. Bull stepped aside and Blackwall danced, hands in the small of his own back, around Vhenaria - careful not to touch her. His feet were quick and Vhenaria soon gave up trying to keep up with him. Dorian decided to risk showing off how this was done in Tevinter. At home it was more about magic than it was footwork. When it was his turn he spun about and aimed his fingers at a spot just over Vhenaria’s head. A small silver cloud appeared above her and a snowfall of tiny five petaled Stars of Sylaise drifted down. They caught in her hair and kissed her skin. There were murmurs from the guests and a smattering of applause. Delighted, Vhenaria caught some of the blossoms in her hands and brought them to her face to smell. As the flowers melted away the scent lingered.

Bull bowed extravagantly and dropped out. Dorian was thrilled. All he had to do now was step off the floor and Blackwall would win his kiss. He didn’t want it to seem too obvious, Varric might accuse him of rigging the game.

Vhenaria was happy and breathless dancing with her two partners. She caught Renae Gavreau’s stare in the corner of her eye and knew she had probably ruined all the hard work that had gone into the evening. She faltered a moment in her steps and turned away, only to find that Dorian had surrendered to Blackwall, as she had known he would. But she couldn’t kiss Blackwall in front of the guests because no matter how chaste it started, it wasn’t going to end that way. Blackwall was standing very close, eyes locked on hers. There was only him and the sensual beat of the music. Her knees felt weak. She had to tell him no, but she couldn’t seem to speak. 

‘Do you trust me, My Lady?’ Blackwall’s warm tenor cut through her thoughts.

Vhenaria smiled and matched his gaze, ‘Only with my life.’

He reached up and brushed a non-existent strand of hair from her face, ‘Maker’s Eyes, you are so beautiful.’ Then his hand trailed lightly down her arm. His practiced fingers traced the soft skin where the bracer-cuffs were open. Goosebumps rose all over her. Blackwall clasped her hand tightly - and knelt. Like a warrior waiting to be knighted. He brought her hand to his lips. She felt his teeth, hidden by the beard, gently graze her knuckles. She felt hot and cold and dizzy all at the same time. 

The room burst into applause. She thought she heard Dorian wail in despair. Vhenaria decided she was done with the pretext. She would kiss Blackwall when he regained his feet. She was done caring what anyone thought. Just then someone yelled, ‘Your Worship!’ As Blackwall stood Vhenaria was hit from behind and knocked forward into his arms. She heard Leli’s voice, ‘Don’t kill him! I need him for questioning.’ Vhenaria turned and saw Brandon Weever lying on the floor at her feet, pulling a small knife out of his own forearm. People were shouting and moving all around her as she slipped from Blackwall’s arms, dropped to her knees beside the young guard, and pressed a hand over the wound. She glanced up to see her new guardsman, Teo Allard, holding a sword to the throat of the man who had, presumably, thrown the knife that had hit Brandon. A knife that was clearly meant for her. The assassin wasn’t much older than her door guards and dressed as a servant.

Brandon stared at Vhenaria, ‘I saved you,’ he said with pride. The skin around his lips was ashen and he gasped for air.

Vhenaria took his hand. ‘You did – you saved my life,’ she said gently. She looked up and managed to call out, ‘We need some help here! Please!’ before Blackwall wrapped an arm around her waist and all but dragged her towards the Tower door. She heard the word ‘poison’ and ‘infirmary.’ Guards rushed to protect her. Guards rushed to protect Gavreau.

Blackwall slammed the stairwell door shut and turned to Vhenaria, ‘Are you all right’ he asked, brow creased in worry, as he looked for some sign that she had been injured. ‘This blood - is it yours?’

‘No. _Mir'vhen_. I’m fine,’ Vhenaria answered, ‘I’m fine.’ She took a shaky breath, ‘Brandon. He stepped in front of the knife.’

‘Of course he did,’ Blackwall pulled her into his arms and kissed her temple, he was shaking. That scared her more than the attack itself. ‘That’s why those lads stand at your door, My Lady. So I don’t have to.’

Before Vhenaria could respond Cullen, Cass, Josie, Vivienne and Dorian pushed through the door, all talking at once about what should be done, who could have hired the assassin, what to do next. 

‘Can everyone please calm down?’ Vhenaria asked. ‘Brandon Weever, is he all right?’

‘On his way to the infirmary,’ Cullen said to Vhenaria. He turned to the others, ‘I think it’s safe to say that the evening is over.’

‘I don’t think that wise, my dear’ Vivienne remarked, ‘now is not the time for the Inquisitor to look frightened. Or bloody for that matter,’ Vhenaria looked down at her dress, now smudged with Brandon Weever’s blood. With an elegant wave of Vivienne’s hand the blood stains vanished, the dress looked as fresh as when she had first put it on. ‘Image is everything.’

‘I certainly don’t want her back out there,’ Dorian said, catching Blackwall’s eye.

‘Vivienne is right,’ Josie said, ‘Next on the evening’s agenda is for the Inquisitor to greet the people in the courtyard.’

‘No,’ said Blackwall flatly, ‘it’s too dangerous.’

‘He’s right,’ said Cullen, ‘if there are other assassins within the walls - the courtyard is the perfect place to try again.’ 

Josie looked at Cassandra, who had been silent so far. ‘They are both right,’ Cass said, ‘So it must be the Inquisitor’s choice. She risks her life every day. It is unfair to ask her to do that and then deny her the right to make this decision.’

‘Thank you for understanding, Cass,’ Vhenaria said, Blackwall was still holding her hand and she squeezed gently. ‘I will go out to the people and then the infirmary to check on Brandon.’ Blackwall gripped her hand hard, expressing his disapproval, but he said nothing. ‘That is what the Inquisitor should do,’ Vhenaria finished.

‘Ryssa won’t carry the basket of alms,’ Dorian said, his usual bravado tempered with true concern, ‘I can’t risk you both.’

‘I will walk with her and carry the basket,’ Blackwall said.

‘I don’t want to get in between - but I am her official escort,’ Cullen pointed out.

‘Yes, but Blackwall is the penitent,’ Josie said cautiously. She didn’t want to hurt Blackwall’s feelings, or Cullen’s, but the symbolism would not be lost on anyone. 

‘I think Blackwall is the better choice,’ said Cass.

‘So do I,’ admitted Cullen.

With the decision made Cass, Josie and Dorian filed out. Blackwall began to try to change her mind about going out but Vhenaria shook her head, kissed him gently and sent him through the door. Because of the closeness of the space it happened that Vivienne was last, ‘Perhaps now you understand the gravity of the situation and will stop acting like a spoiled child,’ she said.

Vhenaria touched the door with her bare foot and it snapped shut before Vivienne could step through it. ‘Not you too, Vivienne,’ she said, ‘please tell me you didn’t just say that.’

‘You heard me, my dear. Picking fights with the Ambassador and pushing the boundaries of decorum during the dancing. You have been acting the spoiled child all evening.’

‘Well, then I suppose it is just my turn,’ Vhenaria replied, ‘This Game of yours has become tiresome and I have had all I am going to take of the bullshit.’

‘There is no need to be vulgar, my dear Inquisitor.’

‘There is every reason to be vulgar. This,’ Vhenaria held up her left hand and the Anchor glowed sickly in the dimness of the stairwell, ‘is vulgar. I would happily turn this Mark and all the responsibility that goes with it over to you if I could. You’d be better at all of this, I have no doubt. I am the leader of a religion I have no belief or even a passing interest in. We think the Anchor is the only thing that can stop Corypheus. And if I fail I lose all of Thedas. All of it and all of you. And in the bargain, I am expected to go where I am told, do what I am told, and be the face of the Inquisition without regard for my own feelings or opinions.’

‘All evidence to the contrary,’ Vivienne replied coolly. ‘You certainly wasted no time in pardoning that _Sculérat_ , so you could keep him in your bed.’

Anger rose in Vhenaria’s chest, but she was wise enough to know she could not win the Blackwall argument on its merits. ‘When has Blackwall ever been a ‘villain’ to you?’

‘Excuse me?’

Vhenaria leaned against the wall and folded her arms, mostly to keep her hands from trembling, ‘He lied to all of us, yes. But Blackwall has always been a gentleman and you have treated him as an inferior since the moment you met him.’

‘He is inferior,’ Vivienne stated.

Vhenaria ignored the comment and took a deep breath, ‘He was more than willing to come with me and Varric to help you find the heart of a snowy wyvern.’

‘Because he wanted to be with you,’ Vivienne replied pointedly.

‘That is true,‘ Vhenaria admitted, ‘But he also hoped to gain, if not your affection, at least your respect. The task was important to you. So he made it important to him. Just as he has done with anyone.’

‘Running about doing errands and heroic deeds was an ill-conceived attempt to hide his true identity and escape justice.’

Vhenaria was tired and shaken. She also knew she wouldn’t change Vivienne’s mind, ‘I know it looks like that. But-,’ Vhenaria paused, she knew that mentioning Cole’s views on the subject was not going to win her any points with Vivienne, ‘Blackwall helps people because that’s who he is now. Not to mention that he saved our lives on at least one occasion.’

Vivienne stood squarely before the Inquisitor, ‘I am quite certain that I never needed his protection.’

Apparently, she and Vivienne remembered that terrible day differently. But they had strayed from the subject and Vhenaria was too tired to argue anymore. ‘You are valuable to the Inquisition. I appreciate your input and support. Truly. I’m not perfect. I guess I’m not even trying to be. But I don’t think I deserve to be berated or belittled. Now, please excuse me, Vivienne, I have to go back out there and be the Inquisitor.’ Vhenaria open the door and paused, smoothing the front of her dress, ‘Thank you for making me presentable. How does my hair look?’

‘Not a strand out of place, my dear.’

‘I hope you will still come to the party in my quarters later.’

‘That is my intention, yes,’ Vivienne arched one perfect eyebrow.

‘I’ll see you there then,’ Vhenaria smiled and went back out into the Great Hall.

***

Josie waited outside the door holding a magnificent hooded cape - green velvet lined with white fur. Blackwall had heard Vivienne’s comment and when the door snapped shut behind him he stopped and listened. He couldn’t all hear the words, but the tones were clear. Cullen and Josie looked impatient, ‘Give them a moment,’ Blackwall said, ‘They are - settling a dispute.’

‘Arguing? Now?’ Josie’s last nerve was fraying.

‘I think the Enchanter used the words ‘spoiled child’,’ Blackwall informed them.

‘Perfect,’ said Cullen, ‘just perfect.’

‘I doubt it would come to hair-pulling and eye-scratching,’ Blackwall chuckled, ‘though I wouldn’t mind seeing that.’

Josie laughed and Cullen shook his head.

A few moments later the door opened and Vhenaria entered the hall looking calm and serene, ‘Shall we?’ she said to them.

‘Is everything all right between you and Vivienne?’ Josie asked nervously.

‘Of course,’ Vhenaria said, ‘she was helping me with my hair.’ Josie placed the cape around the Inquisitor’s shoulders and Cullen held his arm out for her. They walked the length of the hall and out into the gently falling snow.

A bonfire burned in the Upper Courtyard for the comfort of the people who had gathered here. Food and drink had been distributed during the feast. Now the residents of Skyhold’s outer bailey were dancing, drinking, and playing games. When the Inquisitor appeared at the top of the stairs, the people began to cheer. Cullen stepped away and let the accolades fall on Vhenaria alone. When she was ready, Blackwall took Cullen’s place beside her, carrying the basket of alms. Vhenaria handed the coins, sweets, and small toys out to the people. The children clutched at her cape, and she was infinitely patience with them. The women blessed her, and the men bowed and thanked her - wishing her luck in the battle ahead. Cullen, Cass, Dorian, Bull and Teo stayed as close to her as they could, watching the crowd and scanning the dark corners and the tops of the walls. 

When all the people had been greeted, Vhenaria headed for the infirmary. It was peaceful here. The room was decorated for the season, but it was quiet and not so bright. Vhenaria made her way around the room holding the hands of injured soldiers. She spoke quietly to them, asked them to tell her about themselves, and thanked them for their service to the Inquisition. At the far end of the room, in the last bed, was Brandon - looking glum. ‘My savior,’ Vhenaria said, sitting beside him, ‘how are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine, Your Worship. Perfectly fine,’ Brandon was adamant, ‘I’m bandaged up and ready to go back on duty. Please, my Lady, may I return to my post?’

Vhenaria looked at the healer, ‘Giannis, may Brandon return to the hall?’

‘I would prefer to keep him here, Your Worship. I am certain there was poison on the blade. Brandon was given a general antidote, but he should be observed...’

‘For just a little while then?’ Vhenaria made the decision sound like a question, ‘Our evening is nearly over. If you feel more comfortable, Giannis, you must join us.’

***

Back in the hall the dancing had resumed as though nothing had happened. If the evening’s agenda hadn’t been interrupted, surely there was nothing to fear. Vhenaria danced with Dorian, did a few steps of a jig with a jubilant Brandon Weever, and finally Cullen.

‘Josie said that this can be your last dance - you’re free to return to your rooms now,’ Cullen said.

‘It’s about time,’ Vhenaria was grateful, ‘but I have one more thing to do.’

The music came to an end and Vhenaria took her place before the throne. She looked down at Brandon, resolutely standing next to the chair that had been provided for him. Teo stood by him. She knew she needed to do something to recognize these men. They had risked themselves for her safety. Her companions did it every day, but this was different. She had learned enough protocol and politics to know a gesture was in order. A hush fell over the room. Vhenaria gestured for Brandon and Teo to approach the dais. ‘Honored guests, these two young men saved my life tonight and it is only fitting that they be rewarded. Brandon Weever, Teo Allard - for your bravery and quick-thinking, I hereby bestow the title of Hero of the Inquisition.’ She stepped down the stairs and the two young men bowed to her. In a moment of insight, she realized she had tokens for them. Vhenaria removed her armbands and gently widened them enough to place one around the left wrist of each guard. The young men bowed to her again, Brandon was overwhelmed and Teo stood taller.

‘Permission to take our posts, Your Worship,’ Brandon requested. Over Brandon’s shoulder Vhenaria caught Giannis gently shaking her head.

‘Inquisition Heroes, you are temporarily relieved in honor of Satinalia. You are ordered to have a tipple and a good night’s sleep and you,’ she smiled warmly at Weever, ‘may return to your post only when Healer Giannis see fit.’ The guards, grinning ear to ear, saluted before they took their leave.

Cullen touched her arm, ‘I’m to walk you out when you are ready.’

‘I’m ready,’ she replied and set her hand on his wrist. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the Afterparty. Presents will be given, questions will be answered, and what about that wager?

Finally, the ball was over and Vhenaria could retreat to her quarters. The Tower room had been prepared for a more intimate gathering. A fire crackled merrily in the grate, warming a pan of Blackwall’s special spiced wine. Vhenaria’s desk had been set as a bar, there was a table of light food and desserts, and another table was piled with presents that had been delivered to her room during the day. It was wonderfully quiet after the bustle of Great Hall. Vhenaria and Cullen settled themselves across from each other on the couches by the fire, too tired to even get themselves drinks first.

‘Well that was exhausting,’ Cullen stared into the fire, ‘You did well. The gift of your bracelets was - inspired.’

‘An impulse,’ she shrugged her shoulders, ‘loyalty should be rewarded.’

‘Hopefully Gavreau sees it that way.’ Cullen smiled.

‘Hopefully, Dorian and Josie will see it that way. Those bracelets were made just for me. I’m sure they are quite valuable,’ Vhenaria said.

‘They are all the more valuable to the cause now. They are symbols,’ Cullen said, ‘By tomorrow afternoon Lady Montilyet will have ordered more of them - in case you wish to knight anyone else.’

‘I’ll try not to abuse the power,’ Vhenaria laughed, tucking her feet up under her. ‘Thank you Cullen,’ she said, ‘For everything. You are an excellent escort - for a prince.’

‘I assure you - the pleasure was all mine,’ Cullen said. He wanted to say more but wasn’t sure what. Since the beginning of the Inquisition Vhenaria had been a rock - despite the circumstances. She had been supportive through his withdrawal from the lyrium and kept the secret - even from Dorian. Perhaps it was just the pleasant quiet of this room after all that had happened that day, or it was seeing her shine in her role as Inquisitor, but Cullen’s affection for her - the value of their friendship - had deepened over the course of the evening. He wanted to try to explain it to her but was afraid the words would come out wrong. She might misunderstand. He would embarrass himself.

‘I’m so glad we’re friends, Cullen,’ Vhenaria said, ‘You are very dear to me - I hope you know that.’

 _It was just that simple_ , Cullen smiled. ‘You are – important to me as well, Vhenaria.’

There were footsteps on the stairs and the moment slipped away. Dorian, Bull and Josie were the first to appear, closely followed by Varric and Sera. Dorian took charge of the bar and started taking drink orders.

Vhenaria moved away from the fire and stood by the balcony door, propped open just a bit to let the cold winter air freshen the room. She asked Josie to remove the cape from her dress.

As Josie complied, she made a frustrated noise, ‘Hold the bodice a moment. Dorian seems to have attached this in such a way that you must unbutton the dress to get the cape off.

Vhenaria grinned, ‘I’m sure he intended for Blackwall to take care of this part.’

Dorian walked over and handed Vhenaria a drink. ‘Got that Josie?’ he asked.

‘Despite your best efforts, yes,’ Josie smiled.

‘Dorian,’ Vhenaria made a face and looked in her cup, ‘ _Mir’dath_ \- What is in here?’

That’s spiced wine,’ Dorian replied, ‘Isn’t that what you asked me for?’

‘Blackwall adds a spoonful of honey and some warm water to my cup.’

‘I did that,’ Dorian protested, ‘unless I gave yours to Bull.’ He took the cup from her and wandered away to find Bull among their gathering friends.

Vhenaria looked toward the stairs again. Everyone but Blackwall and Leliana were present. ‘I hate to ask but, where is he?’

Josie set the cape aside, ‘He is being deliberately detained in the hall by two of Ambassador Gauvreau's guards. Last I heard, they were discussing which metals make the best breast plates.’

Josie went on to analyze every moment of the evening, telling Vhenaria what she had done right and scolding her for things she really shouldn’t have done at all. Vhenaria was trying to pay attention but her gaze kept straying to the stairs. She wouldn’t be able to relax until Blackwall arrived.

Finally, she saw him at the head of the stairs. Blackwall’s eyes scanned the room and came to rest on Vhenaria. He walked towards her with a fierce determination. Cullen saw him and tried to engage him in conversation, ‘Blackwall, I’d like to have a word with you.’

Blackwall’s intense grey-blue eyes were focused solely on Vhenaria. ‘In a moment, Commander,’ Blackwall pushed past Cullen.

‘Josie could you hold my drink,’ Vhenaria said, handing her the cup.

Blackwall was not usually demonstrative when they were at Skyhold, but now he was staring at her as though the others didn’t exist and it sent shivers up her spine. Her heart was pounding so loud, she couldn’t hear anything else. When he reached her, Blackwall caught Vhenaria up in his arms and kissed her passionately. One hand cradled her neck. The other rested on the small of her bare back, pulling her hips against his. Vhenaria heard Cassandra’s disgusted noise, and Josie said ‘Oh, my,’ in an appreciative tone. 

The whole room burst into a cacophony of whistles, cat calls, and applause. When Blackwall pulled away, Dorian slipped a glass into his hand. Blackwall gulped down the drink, smacked the empty glass down on the table and announced, ‘That - was bullshit!’

Everyone laughed then Bull said, ‘Maybe we should leave you two alone.’

‘But I want presents,’ Dorian and Sera said simultaneously.

The opening of presents wasn’t formal, the friends simply drew random presents from the pile and handed them out. While Sera unwrapped a lovely hand-tooled leather quiver from Bull, Cass found herself the owner of a complete set of Varric’s books individually autographed. ‘The Kid said you might like these,’ Varric said, tipping his chin toward Cole.

‘Was that not right?’ Cole asked, deeply concerned.

‘Yes! They are perfect!’ Cass was ecstatic at first, but quickly reigned in her feelings, ‘They are - very nice. Thank you, Varric.’

Josie chatted with Vhenaria and Blackwall, whose only interest at this moment was standing as close to Vhenaria as he could.

Josie was worried about the impression the Inquisition had made on the Ambassador. She despaired that all her hard work had been for nothing. ‘There wasn’t much we were going to be able to do,’ said Josie, ‘Your very presence aggravated the Ambassador.’

‘And not for the first time,’ Blackwall said drily.

‘What do you mean?’ Josie asked.

‘We knew each other in Orlais,’ Blackwall said, ‘her surname then was Jacquemond.’

‘You knew each other?’ Vhenaria asked, raising one eyebrow and bumping her hip against his playfully.

‘Not like that, My Lady,’ Blackwall laughed, kissing her temple, ‘that was the problem.’

‘Oh!?’ Josie said, ‘Celene sent a woman you had refused!’ Suddenly Josie was smiling ear to ear.

‘Deliberately, I’m sure,’ Blackwall chuckled, ‘she was just as unpleasant as a young woman. I hadn’t seen her at Skyhold before tonight - you kept me out of the way. But when Ryssa had a confrontation with her Renae’s daughter, I noticed the resemblance.’

‘Don’t you see?’ Josie was almost hysterical now. The reality of the situation finally dawning on her, ‘All my concern was for nothing! Celene had to send _somebody_. To protect her own image! So she send someone who would hate anything you did!’ Josie was laughing out loud now, ‘And all Renae will be able to say is that you kissed the Inquisitor’s hand at the ball! A petty complaint at best! Blackwall!’ Josie was positively giddy now, she threw her arms around his neck, ‘Thank you! That is the best present you could have gotten me.’

Blackwall let go of Vhenaria’s hand long enough to hug Josie back, ‘You are welcome of course, but I’m sure there is something for you on the table that is just as good.’

While Josie protested, Blackwall brought her a small package wrapped in a piece of gold colored cloth secured with a piece of silver ribbon. It was a set of three gold bangles that chimed prettily when worn. ‘Blackwall,’ Josie smiled, ‘They are lovely. Thank you.’

‘I confess they are the spoils of war,’ Blackwall replied, ‘I found them in cache of treasure in the Exalted Plains.

‘But,’ Vhenaria interrupted meaningfully, ‘You were the first person he thought of when we found them.’

‘And the thought is much appreciated,’ Josie said happily, ‘I got you something as well.’ She retrieved a thin rectangle wrapped in a black cloth and tied with a grey ribbon from the table and handed it to Blackwall. He unwrapped a smooth, flat, perfectly rectangular stone about the same length as his hand but only as wide as his thumb. It looked like it was made of two thin layers, gray on one side and white on the other. ‘It’s a whetstone. From Orzammar,’ Josie explained, ‘For your chisels.’

‘From Orzammar, you say?’ Blackwall turned the stone over in his hands and rubbed a thumb across its surface.

‘It is supposed to be unbreakable and will hone a blade to exceptional sharpness.’ Josie said, ‘You are so good to the children here. The toys you make give them such joy.’

‘Thank you, Josie,’ said Blackwall. He leaned over and kissed her cheek, ‘it’s very thoughtful.’

Just then Cullen joined their little circle, ‘You have the attentions of the loveliest ladies in the room,’ he said, ‘I hate to ask but - might I have a word?’

‘First tell us where you got this?’ said Vhenaria, tugging on the red silk scarf he was wearing.

‘Dorian seems to think I need to ‘upgrade my look’ - whatever that means. Apparently, I’m stodgy.’

‘He’s just jealous because ladies-’ Josie started.

‘Potential partners that is,’ interjected Vhenaria.

‘Tend to throw themselves at you,’ Josie finished.

‘They do?’ Cullen said seriously.

Blackwall laughed a deep belly laugh. Vhenaria kissed Cullen’s cheek and Josie ruffled Cullen’s hair a bit before they left the gentlemen to their conversation. 

‘I don’t understand,’ said Cullen, still confused.

‘The way I understand women, that’s part of your charm,’ Blackwall chuckled, ‘You wanted a word?’

Cullen was uncomfortable with the topic at hand, so he got right to the point, ‘I don’t have a Satinalia present for you.’

‘Not to worry Commander, I don’t have one for you either,’ Blackwall was just as direct.

‘I’ve been - angry at you,’ Cullen began, ‘since Val Royeaux.’

‘I know that,’ Blackwall said, ‘And I know it’s well deserved.’

‘I don’t think I will ever be able to understand what you did,’ Cullen replied, ‘but I can see that you are doing your best - to be a better man. More important - you are good for the Inquisition. You are good for her.’ Cullen looked over at Vhenaria. She was laughing breathlessly over some story Varric was telling. ‘And I am…willing to call you a friend.’

Cullen was ‘willing’ but not happy to call him a friend. This was an attempt at tolerance of the situation, not acceptance and Blackwall felt it was more than fair. Any further friendship with the Commander would have to be earned. ‘Thank you, Cullen,’ Blackwall held out his hand, ‘I’ll try not to disappoint either of you.’

As the two men shook hands, Dorian appeared at Cullen’s elbow. He was holding a piece of paper and an expression of deep concern. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt the male bonding, but this is for you. Leliana sent this instead of coming up and causing a stir. The news is - remarkable.’

Cullen took the note, read it, and handed it to Blackwall. ‘You read it already?’ he asked Dorian.

‘I may have boundary issues,’ Dorian shrugged.

Blackwall was staring at the paper, ‘Don’t tell her yet.’

‘I’m not telling Dove anything,’ Dorian agreed. ‘You have to tell her - before Leliana does.’

Cullen looked at Blackwall, ‘You were the target,’ he said, keeping his voice low.

‘As angry as you all are with me, is it any surprise that I would be hunted by the son of one of my men?’ He hadn’t feared this day, he had seen it as inevitable. How many nights had he prayed for it? But when it finally happened the man who had come for him had poisoned Weever and endangered Vhenaria. Blackwall looked over at her. She was opening a present while Cassandra and Varric looked on. ‘I will tell her,’ he said, ‘is it all right with you two if I wait until tomorrow?’ He didn’t want his hesitation to seem like more deception on his part.

‘There’s no reason to mar an otherwise pleasant evening,’ Dorian noted.

‘Leliana seems to have the situation under control,’ Cullen agreed. ‘We have a war room meeting in the afternoon. The subject will come up.’ His tone held a trace of warning.

‘Then I will tell her after breakfast,’ Blackwall promised.

***

‘This one’s Varric’s,’ Sera said. ‘From Hawke,’ she read off the tag.

‘It came in a packet the other day,’ Josie said, ‘I thought you might want to open it here.’

‘From Hawke?’ Varric tore open the package. Inside was a knit scarf of sorts. Twice as long as a dwarf would need, it was the color of oatmeal and stray pieces of yarn stuck out here and there. At one end, uncentered, there was a figure picked out in teal embroidery. A crossbow bolt, or a quill, depending on how you looked at it. ‘Hawke made it for me,’ Varric was sniffling a little as he read the note that had come with it, ’she learned to knit just so she could make this for me.’

’Looks more like she learned to tangle.’ Sera laughed.

But Varric ignored the jibe. He was just happy Hawke had sent him something, and he wondered where she was spending Satinalia and if Fenris was with her and if they were safe.

***

Blackwall took a purple box off the table and wended his way through the room where he found Lady Vivienne observing the revelry from a spot near the fireplace. He held out the parcel, ‘Madame de Fer, this is for you.’

‘A Satinalia gift - from you?’ Vivienne was suspicious.

‘That is the accepted tradition, yes.’

‘I cannot imagine what you could provide that I could possibly need or want,’ Vivienne began as she opened the box. When she looked inside her eyes widened in surprise, ‘A bottle of Heart of Spring.’

‘From Verchial. It is a favorite of yours, I think,’ Blackwall said.

‘This is a transparent attempt to win my favor, my dear, and it is beneath even you,’ Vivienne said.

‘Or it is a gift freely given,’ Blackwall shrugged, ‘Believe what you wish, Lady Vivienne.’ He began to turn away.

‘I don’t believe I ever properly thanked you for your help in finding the heart of the snowy wyvern,’ Vivienne said.

‘I am only sorry we did not return in time,’ Blackwall said earnestly.

‘I appreciate the thought, my dear.’

***

‘What is that?’ Blackwall demanded, pointing at the awkwardly shaped burlap bag in Dorian’s hand. 

‘It’s a present,’ Dorian clutched the package to his chest, ‘Satinalia, party, presents. How much have you had to drink?’

‘Where did you get it?’

‘Someone left it in my rooms, I thought I’d bring it here.’

‘That was me,’ Blackwall replied testily, ‘I left it there on purpose.’

‘It’s from you?’ Dorian held the bag away from his body suspiciously. ‘This isn’t like last Satinalia when you gave me a pregnant nug, is it?’

‘No,’ Blackwall smirked.

‘That nug gave birth in my shoe closet.’

Now Blackwall was laughing outright, ‘I’m aware. That’s why I gave you the jar of spiders for your birthday. I thought the nugs might be hungry.’

Bull was laughing now. ‘He screamed like a tusket.’

‘Not for the first time, I’d say.’ Sera chimed in.

Everyone was laughing now, and Dorian was looking hurt. ‘Take it back, Blackwall. Whatever it is, I don’t want it.’ He set the parcel down on the table.

‘Wait,’ Blackwall said, ‘This isn’t like that. It’s a real present. But you were supposed to open it later.’

‘Even I don't know what it is,’ Vhenaria said.

‘May I open it, now?’ Dorian asked, eying the gift with renewed interest.

‘Let’s wait,’ Vhenaria sensed Blackwall’s discomfort and put the present aside before the situation got out of hand. ‘A game or a song?’ she suggested.

‘I have a better idea,’ Varric said, making his way through the group. He was carrying a tray of shaving supplies and a towel, Sera following behind him with a basin of water, ‘Time to make good on the wager, Sparkler.’

‘Wager?’ Vhenaria asked, hugging Blackwall’s arm.

‘He bet his moustache he could get Blackwall to kiss you in front of the guests.’

‘He did kiss her!’ Dorian protested.

‘On the lips?’ Varric asked.

‘Did I say that?’ Dorian asked innocently.

‘You did,’ Cass said, ‘Josephine and I both heard you.’

‘Would I risk making a bet like that without witnesses?’ Varric smiled.

‘Maybe we could renegotiate? Breakfast in bed for a month,’ Dorian said uselessly. Varric just shook his head. ‘Two months?’ begged Dorian.

‘Nope,’ Varric replied, ‘do you want to do this here, or should we go set up shop over in the corner.’

Dorian reluctantly made his way to the far corner of the room, with Varric following close behind. A few minutes later Varric presented the newly shaven Enchanter to the gathering. There were twitters and giggles from all over the room.

‘Oh, _Mir’dath_ , you look – just fine,’ she finished weakly.

‘You look younger,’ Bull attempted consolation.

‘I were you? I’d stay in my room ‘til it grows back,’ said Sera.

‘This is all your fault, Blackwall,’ Dorian lamented, ‘if you’d just followed the rules of the dance instead of the rules of the Game I wouldn’t look so…..so…’

‘Prepubescent?’ offered Varric.

‘You owe me a shave,’ Dorian ignored the dwarf.

‘I don’t think so,’ Blackwall replied, and took another sip from his cup.

‘Now there’s a fine idea, Beardy,’ Sera said. She had a pair of scissors in her hand and she snipped them open and shut. ‘Shave Blackwall!’ she shouted.

‘Shave Blackwall!’ Dorian repeated.

Blackwall chuckled, and stroked his beard, ‘I behaved myself and now your attacking my facial hair? Very unsportsmanlike.’

Josie, still giddy with the news that she had nothing to worry over where Celene was concerned said, ‘Well, I would like to see why Renae Jacquemond was so smitten.’

Blackwall turned to Vhenaria in desperation, but she just smiled. She had broached the subject of his beard before. He had always flatly refused even to discuss it. The revelation of his identity made the reasons obvious now. But she still didn’t care for the beard. ‘I have nothing to say on the matter,’ she said innocently, ‘This seems to be between you and - your admirers.’

Sera and Bull had him by the arms now and a tapestry was pulled from the wall to make a divider, so no one could see the result. Blackwall knew he could put an end to their fun but he’d had just enough to drink to not care too much. It was only a beard. It would grow back. ‘Sera,’ he said, ‘give Varric the scissors, I don’t trust you not to cut off anything important.’

‘No worries there, yeah?’ she replied with a harsh laugh, ‘won’t hurt anything Vhen’ll be wanting later.’

Blackwall’s grooming took far longer than Dorian’s had, and the company was becoming restless by the time the tapestry was drawn aside. Bull took Blackwall by the shoulders and backed him to the middle of the room. He was grinning, ‘Wait until you see,’ he said to Vhenaria over Blackwall’s head.

‘Can we just get this over with?’ Blackwall asked.

Bull turned Blackwall around and a cheer went up. Not only was he clean shaven but his hair had been trimmed a bit, though the warrior’s knot was still intact. Everyone was hooting and laughing, except Vhenaria. She was simply stunned. Under all that hair he was more handsome than she ever could have guessed. He had a slightly pointed chin and high, well defined cheekbones. The clear blue eyes that she had fell for that day in the Hinterlands were somehow more intense. She had often wondered how he had managed to hide in plain sight all this time just by growing a beard. Now it seemed obvious. Vhenaria could see the features of the little boy she had met all those years ago on the road in the Free Marches. She wanted to tell him how handsome he looked, but humans had an odd way of taking compliments and turning them into complaints. If she thought him so attractive now, would he think she found him unpleasant before? The moment stretched. The cheering hushed. Blackwall self-consciously rubbed the back of his neck.

‘ _Fasta vass_!’ Dorian broke the tension with a curse, ‘Just my luck you look better without the beard!’

It was enough to jolt Vhenaria from her thoughts. Instead of speaking, she closed the distance between them, took Blackwall’s now smooth face in her hands, and kissed him. Blackwall put his arms around her and pulled her close.

***

After a few songs and a game of Wicked Grace the party began to break up. Finally, the room was empty except for the four of them. Dorian and Bull cuddled on their side of the fire and on the other couch Vhenaria had her legs thrown over Blackwall’s lap. He pushed up the hem of her skirt and wrapped one hand around her calf. The wind was picking up and snow was coming down harder than before. As much as they had enjoyed the noise and the fun of the last couple hours, now they just appreciated the quiet with one another. 

‘Hey Boss,’ Bull said as a distraction to Dorian and Blackwall touching their faces, stroking non-existent facial hair, ‘weren’t there a few presents you set aside?’

‘There were,’ she said, swinging her legs off Blackwall’s lap and going over to the gift table. She pulled a basket out from beneath the cloth and brought it over to the table before the fire. ‘Who’s first?’ she asked, looking through the pile.

Blackwall and Bull chuckled as they exchanged nearly identical boxes - assortments of _Bellbilot._ Bull’s were pink and piped with lacy patterns. Blackwall’s were an array of colors and topped with elaborate sugar tuiles.

Vhenaria gave Bull some extra chocolatey cocoa to go with his treats. And Bull gave her a beautiful matched pair of daggers. The hilts were silver and the blades were a rosy hue even in the firelight.

‘They’re pink.’ Blackwall said.

‘They’re Dawnstone,’ Bull replied.

‘Too brittle for hard use,’ Blackwall needled.

‘They’re lovely,’ Vhenaria beamed, ‘Thank you, Bull.’

‘Speaking of Dawnstone,’ Dorian picked up a perfectly wrapped packet in white and blue, ‘This is for you, Amatus’

It was a wide Dawnstone cuff etched with a dragon - wings outstretched. Bull slipped the cuff around his left wrist and admired it. ‘Pretty,’ he said. ‘And this is for you, Kadan.’ Bull handed him a red box with a white bow. Dorian took the lid off the box and peeked inside. At first, he thought the box was empty but then he realized that there was something small in the bottom corner. A simple earring made of Qunari alktaazite, sparkling in alternating tones of purple and green.

‘Stunning,’ Dorian said as he put on the earring, then leaned over and kissed Bull. They touched their foreheads together and looked into each other's eyes for a moment. Dorian sighed.

‘It will grow back,’ Bull said gently.

‘Not fast enough,’ Dorian mourned, and stroked his upper lip. He turned to the pile and handed Vhenaria and Blackwall purple boxes with green ribbons. Hers was a tiny silver dove on a chain. ‘Not for combat use, Dove. This is for around the castle only.’

‘It’s perfect,’ Vhenaria said while Blackwall fastened it around her neck.

Blackwall's parcel contained a bottle of his favorite whiskey - Winged Wonder from the Anderfels. ‘Well, thank you, Dorian. I thought you’d get me another book of word puzzles. I’m done with the one you gave me for my birthday.’

‘Surely, you’re joking,’ Dorian protested, ‘you don’t do word puzzles.’

‘Not true,’ Blackwall replied, pulling a dog-eared puzzle book from behind the couch cushion. ‘A few of those gave me real trouble.’

‘Only a few?’ repeated Dorian, ‘Is it possible I’ve underestimated you?’

“Always,’ Blackwall grinned, ‘I count on it.’

Vhenaria laughed as she handed Dorian his gift, a fine wool scarf woven in the Dalish style, ‘Warm enough for combat use, but pretty enough for the castle,’ she smiled.

‘Soft too,’ Dorian replied as he draped the midnight blue and emerald green fabric around his neck, ‘Thank you, Dove.’

Vhenaria gave Blackwall a small box that held a brass cloak pin in the shape of a bear’s head. ‘A bear, huh?’ he said, ruefully rubbing his chin, ‘I don’t look much like a bear right now. I don’t think Anabelle will be happy with a hairless Bearwall.’

‘Well, I like it,’ Vhenaria rubbed her nose against his cheek and kissed his jawline.

‘You know I’m growing it back,’ Blackwall warned.

‘When it starts to grow back he’ll be scruffy,’ Bull said with a somewhat wicked grin, ‘nice and rough on sensitive skin. You’ll love it.’

Vhenaria looked at Bull and raised her eyebrows, then she turned to Blackwall, ‘I know you’ll grow it back, but for now-’

‘She can pretend you are someone else,’ Dorian goaded.

‘That’s so amusing I think I’ll just keep this,’ Blackwall said taking the burlap bag that Dorian had wanted to open earlier.

‘I wouldn’t come between Dorian and a present if I were you,’ said Bull amiably.

‘He didn’t want it,’ Blackwall replied, ‘he said so.’

‘That was before I knew it was a real gift, Big Man,’ Dorian protested.

‘All right,’ Blackwall placed the bag on the table in front of Dorian.

Dorian tugged off the cord that held the bag shut and gasped as the burlap fell away. It was one of Blackwall’s animal figures but this one was larger than most. An object of art instead of a child’s toy, it was a peacock carefully carved and meticulously painted in rich iridescent shades of green, blue, purple and gold. Whereas most representations of peacocks are simple static figures with the tail fully open, this figure suggested motion. As though it were in the process of unfurling its tail.

‘It’s remarkable,’ Dorian said, ‘I don’t know what to say.’

Blackwall was grinning proudly. ‘Say this,’ he said, pulling a small card from beneath the statue and handing it to Dorian.

Dorian read the card, ‘What is the Tevene word for ‘dazzling’?’ Dorian looked at Blackwall, ‘Do you mean _dalgidis_?’

The peacock on the table ruffled its tail. The feathers opened almost all the way and then settled back to their original position.

Vhenaria, Bull and Dorian all jumped at the unexpected motion. Blackwall just beamed.

‘Do that again,’ said Bull, eyes fixed on the peacock.

Dorian looked at the statue. ‘ _Dalgidis_ ,’ he said.

The bird ruffled its feathers again. The fire caught the iridescent color as the tail feathers opened for a moment and came to rest.

‘That’s pretty cool,’ Bull said, ‘how did you make it do that?’

‘I had help from Dagna,’ Blackwall replied, ‘she’s a wonder.’

‘You’ve made Dorian speechless,’ Vhenaria laughed.

Dorian sat staring - first at the statue then at Blackwall.

‘Then it’s Satinalia for me too,’ Blackwall chuckled. ‘Ryssa helped me with the Tevene. But she refused to teach me how to say ‘egotistical bastard’.’

‘This is an overwhelming gift,’ Dorian was awed, ‘Thank you.’

‘Least I could do for My Lady’s best friend,’ Blackwall said humbly. After all they had been through, Dorian had become like a brother. An annoying, extravagant, but much-loved brother. 

Dorian was touched by the gift. The people in this room meant more to him than his family ever had. In truth, this was his family. Instead of trying to express that, Dorian looked into the now empty basket, ‘Seems like you forgot someone, Big Man,’ he said.

‘You didn’t forget the Boss?’ Bull’s voice held reproach.

‘No, of course not,’ Blackwall took Vhenaria’s hand, ‘I was going to wait until the two of you had gone.’

‘Well, that is simply unacceptable,’ said Dorian, ‘Come now, what did you get for our Dove?’

‘All right. I may as well. She’ll tell you in the morning and Bull will know by lunch time.’ Blackwall said with mock reluctance and unbuttoned two of the buttons on his tunic.

‘You’re going to do that now?’ Dorian asked - pretending to be shocked.

‘Just keep your pants on, Dorian,’ said Blackwall, ‘I’ve got the Lady’s present buttoned inside my jacket for safe-keeping.’ Still holding her hand, he looked Vhenaria in the eye. Bull and Dorian snuggled closer together. ‘I try to show you every way I can, but I’ve never said it,’ Blackwall said. ‘Tonight I nearly lost you - again. I’m done pretending to be someone I’m not and I won’t pretend not to feel the way I do.’ He slipped a tiny silver band over the tip of Vhenaria’s pinky finger. ‘I can’t ask you to marry me - yet. I don’t even know who I am, or what name I would offer you. It will take me some time to be sure. But I need to tell you,’ Blackwall paused and settled the delicate little ring on her finger, ‘I love you.’ There was so much more he wanted to express. The words that had seemed too big to say now felt absurdly small. 

Vhenaria threw her arms around Blackwall’s neck. ‘I love you too,’ she whispered, then kissed him.

Bull, ever the romantic one, was glassy eyed and sniffly, ‘You two are adorable.’

‘Well, it’s about time,’ Dorian said, diffusing the sentimental air of the moment, ‘I’m surprised she didn’t just say ‘I know’.’

‘I did know - but it was nice to hear,’ Vhenaria said, snuggling up next to Blackwall.

‘You like to hear me say it, Kadan,’ said Bull, gently kissing Dorian’s ear.

‘Well, now,’ said Dorian, ‘before it gets any more precious in here I think we should be on our way.’

‘Good idea,’ said Bull, getting up from the couch, ‘let’s leave these two alone.’

Hugs were exchanged, presents gathered, and Dorian and Bull started down the stairs, their voices drifting back up, ‘I miss my moustache,’ Dorian lamented.

‘I know Kadan,’ consoled Bull, ‘but you are beautiful on the inside.’

‘Well, that was uncalled for,’ Dorian protested.

‘I love you too.’

Vhenaria laughed as the door clicked shut. Blackwall stepped up behind her where she stood facing the fire, admiring the silver band on her finger. He kissed the back of her neck. ‘You like it, then,’ he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

‘I love it,’ she replied, turning in his arms, ‘and you.’

‘I love you too,’ Blackwall answered. Now that he had said it the first time, it seemed so easy, and he wondered why he had waited so long. He kissed her again and pulled her tightly against him. Vhenaria trailed kisses down his jawline and his neck. ‘Nevermind, My Lady, I’m growing it back,’

‘All the more reason to enjoy it now,’ she said, pressing her lips to his cheek. ‘Dorian told me I’ll never have to wear this dress again,’ Vhenaria whispered.

‘So it doesn’t matter what happens as I get you out of it?’ he replied.

‘Not a bit,’ she said, as she started unbuttoning his jacket, ‘too many buttons,’ she whispered.

‘I’ve bad news, My Lady,’ he whispered against her neck, ‘I’m wearing another layer underneath.’ He lifted her from the floor and carried her to the bed.

‘Good news, _Mir'vhen_ ,’ she breathed in his ear, ‘I’m not.’

‘So you said.’

***

Wind driven snow scoured the windows of the Tower room. Although it was light enough to be morning, it was impossible to tell the time through the gray of the storm. Blackwall woke Vhenaria with a gentle kiss on the neck, no longer the bear-like nuzzle she was used to. She snuggled closer to him and wondered if, perhaps, she actually did miss the beard. Vhenaria kissed him on the lips and decided she didn’t. ‘Good morning,’ she whispered. 

‘When did you dress?’ Blackwall asked as he slid his hand up under the shirt she was wearing and rested it on her hip. It was the fine linen shirt Blackwall had worn under the black tunic - now abandoned in a heap on the floor with her gown.

‘When the wind blew the balcony door all the way open,’ she said, ‘I put a couple more logs on the fire then too. You were snoring like a dragon, so I decided not to wake you.’

‘I should have left hours ago,’ Blackwall said.

‘No. Not anymore,’ she looked at him seriously, ‘No more pretending.’

He kissed her again and pulled her closer. Just then they heard Hanna’s voice, ‘Well, Lady Lavellan, that was quite the party last night. I brought you a little something to settle your stomach while we get you dressed.’ Before Blackwall or Vhenaria could react, Hanna looked up and saw them. She grabbed the first thing at hand, luckily a pillow from the couch, and rounded the bed in a flash. She was yelling at Blackwall and punctuating her words by hitting him with the pillow, ‘I don’t know who you are, you scoundrel, but you get out of the Lady’s bed this instant. Blackwall will kill the both of you and you’d deserve it, I daresay!’ Hanna looked at Vhenaria, ‘How could you? Blackwall’s a fine man and he loves you,’ She grabbed Blackwall by the ear and started to pull him from the bed.

Vhenaria grabbed the blankets and held them against Blackwall’s waist with one hand while she tried to fend off Hanna with the other, but even at her age Hanna was a formidable foe, ‘Hanna! Stop! This is Blackwall,’ Vhenaria wasn’t sure whether she should be amused that Hanna didn’t recognize Blackwall or outraged at the suggestion that she’d just let anyone into her bed. ‘Hanna! He shaved his beard. If you pull him out of the bed, you’ll see more of him than you need to.’ she giggled.

Hanna was holding the cushion above her head. Blackwall looked up at her and gently taking her hand from his ear he said, ‘You are right, Mrs. Dilber. If she brought another man up here I’d kill them both,’ he winked, ‘and I might need to find comfort in the arms of another.’

His voice was familiar to her, ‘Blackwall!?’ Her gaze strayed to his lap then back to his face. ‘Maker help me, I’m old enough to be your mother!’ Vhenaria was stifling another giggle. Hanna quickly regained her composure. ‘Well don’t that beat all. You look ten years younger without all that fur on your face,’ she patted his cheek affectionately, ‘Right handsome, you are.’ She wandered back toward the fire and put the cushion back on the couch, ‘It’s about time you spent the night up here. You two weren’t fooling anybody. And we all pretending not to see. Can’t imagine why you’d try to hide something so marvelous in times so dismal. It was probably the Seeker that told you to keep it secret,’ Hanna sighed heavily. ‘That woman needs a man in her own life - or another woman for that matter.’ Hanna had reached the stairs, ‘You’ve only got an hour before the Lady is expected at the formal breakfast in the Hall. I’ll tell the guards you aren’t to be disturbed.’ The door at the bottom of the stairs clicked shut.

Vhenaria turned to Blackwall. ‘I think she wanted to see what you were hiding under those blankets,’ she laughed, and started to get out of the bed.

‘And you don’t?’ Blackwall feigned resentment.

‘I’ve seen it,’ she replied breezily, ‘And I need tea - and I have to pick out something to wear - and-’

She had one foot on the floor when Blackwall pulled her back under the covers. ‘First things first,’ he said with a kiss.

She peeked under the blankets and smiled, ‘Well, there’s a good reason to be late for breakfast.’

**Author's Note:**

> Vhenaria Lavellan is a dual-wielding rogue. 
> 
> My headcanon Dorian has always called Vhenaria Lavellan 'Dove.' I didn't know why he did that - but it is such a headcanon for me that I am actually surprised sometimes that he doesn't do it in-game. A few weeks ago he finally told me when and why. It's a story I am getting to. Promise.
> 
> Ryssa 'Pavus' is a recurring original character. She has her own 'origin' story which is coming soon. 
> 
> The Messengers are a group of children that Dorian trained to carry documents and information around the castle. They are a recurring group and have more explanatory stories coming up. 
> 
> Mir'dath is my attempt to parse out the Dalish word for 'sweetie.'


End file.
